


Here I Am

by shibi



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Just Wright, Hockey Player Jonathan Toews, M/M, Meet-Cute, No cheating, Physio!Patrick, Sexy Times, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27044191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shibi/pseuds/shibi
Summary: “I’m going to be sucking your dick out of pity one day,” Tyler delivers deadpan as they slide into their usual seats in the cafeteria. “You literally cock-blocked yourself by taking her. Even Jamie agrees with me on this.”“Sex isn’t everything,” Patrick says, ignoring the part of him that hurts a little at being overlooked again. “Plus… it’s fine. I’ve never done the boyfriend thing anyway and I’m probably way too independent nowadays to deal with someone else encroaching on my life. I’d end up being too distant or whatever because I want to have my own life.”A messy love triangle - or how Patrick lands the guy for the first time ever.
Relationships: Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin, Jonathan Toews/Other(s), Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 46
Kudos: 213





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any mistakes - I don't currently have a beta and there's only so many times I can re-read this! Hope you all enjoy =)

Patrick’s car is literally a giant piece of crap, but he can’t bring himself to let it go. It’s an old-school canary yellow jeep that had belonged to his grandpa and he will drive this car until he dies, or the car dies, whichever comes first.

The paint is faded and chipped in some places and the heating doesn’t work, but he can’t afford to fix either. He doesn’t mind so much, isn’t really bothered as long as it gets from point A to point B. Besides, it’s not like he can afford a new car right now anyway, not after becoming the proud owner of a ‘fixer upper’ in Chicago’s ‘burbs. He should probably feel like an adult by now, but he still feels like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He has it all, he thinks, he’s got a car, a house, a job… and now all he needs is _the_ man. ‘Needs’ may be pushing it though, he doesn’t _need_ a boyfriend, but he wouldn’t mind one. It’d be nice to have someone to share this all with, to talk to when he does get lonely. Which is precisely why he’s on his way to meet a blind date. He’s a little nervous, but also excited. It’s the first time he’s managed to get a date after moving everything ‘online’ (‘ _you aren’t going to meet nice boys in clubs and bars darling_ ,’ he can hear his mother saying, ‘ _you want a boy you can bring home to your parents, not the kind of boy you can pick up from a seedy joint_ ’). So, it’s not really a blind date, but it feels like one to Patrick, because no matter how good the chemistry is over text messages, it’s a whole different ball game when you meet in person.

He’s dressed nicely, his sisters (and Tyler) had all approved of the outfit he’d picked out (at least he’s not in his scrubs), so he has hope that he doesn’t look like the rundown rehabilitation physiotherapist that he actually is. He sighs as he remembers Tyler’s instructions to ‘ _be anything but yourself, you’re supposed to wait 5 years after you’re married before you reveal that shit. Also don’t—and I mean it—don’t talk about work or how smart you actually are. You’re intimidating as fuck_.’

He pulls up to the valet and after an embarrassing attempt at opening his door the valet allows Patrick to help him (the door is hanging wrong from that one time he almost got t-boned back in his college days… he can’t afford to the fix dent in his door but he’s grown attached to it anyway).

“You kind of have to lift it up and then pull to open it,” he explains to the valet, handing over his keys with an embarrassed smile. For a moment he wonders if the guy is just going to crawl through the window.

The valet doesn’t even bother, he simply goes to the passenger side door and crawls into the driver’s seat from there. Yeah, Patrick thinks, he should definitely leave them with a decent tip after dinner.

He shuffles into the restaurant, looking around in interest. It’s an Italian place he’s never heard of and the interior is all dark wood and mood lighting—very cosy for a first date and he’s glad his date made the suggestion, otherwise he’d have gone with like the local burger joint nearby the hospital (cheap, but he literally swears they’re the best burgers he’s ever had the joy of eating). He’s not really one for fancy wining and dining, but he can appreciate it when it does happen.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Patrick startles out of admiring the design of the restaurant to see a waitress patiently waiting for some kind of response from him. He smiles and shakes his head, “I’m meeting someone here, at the bar.”

The waitress smiles politely and gestures over to the bar to their left, clearly wanting to move him out the way so she can deal with the people that came in after him.

Patrick nods, checking his phone quickly before he looks up and glances at all the unfamiliar faces at the bar. He’s just about to start getting nervous that he’s been stood up (definitely not the first time) when he notices someone leaning away from the bar, a smile on their face as they wave.

He’s… not quite like his picture? Patrick thinks as he approaches his date. It’s a little disconcerting and Patrick momentarily wonders if he looks like his pictures. _Not bad though_ , he thinks surreptitiously looking him over, _not bad at all_. He’s tall with broad shoulders, light brown hair and warm brown eyes that draw Patrick in.

“Patrick, right?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, immediately put at ease when an arm comes around his shoulders.

“It’s great to finally meet you in person,” his date smiles down at him. “Let’s get you a drink and then go find our table.”

Patrick doesn’t disagree. He gets himself whatever beer is on tap and tries not to feel weird about the guy’s laugh at his order (he’s having a wine that Patrick can’t pronounce, and Patrick is definitely not that kind of guy). It’s not enough to put him off though—their conversation over dinner is easy and they like the same sports teams. They’re laughing, chirping each other (not enough to scare each other away) and Patrick thinks it’s going really well. Nothing about their night so far has been awkward, his date even insists they share a dessert just to avoid getting booted out by the staff.

He’s pretty pleased because he is _so_ getting a second date out of this guy. He’s fun, he’s cute, they’ve got great chemistry and they’ve been a little flirty with each other all night—he might even get a kiss (he hopes—or maybe he doesn’t—it’s been a while and he’s definitely out of practice).

“Thank you, this was great,” Patrick grins up at him at the end of the night. He’s kindly waiting with Patrick at the valet station out front of the restaurant and their conversation is winding down at the end of a good night. “So—” Patrick starts but gets cut off.

“So, tonight was great.”

“Yeah,” Patrick drags out, suddenly unsure of himself. Because his tone says something different and Patrick is confused. “We should do it again,” he says, ignoring his uncertainty (Tyler always tells him he worries way too much). The date went well—he knows it did! Or is he that oblivious?

“Look… I’m just. I’m just coming out of a long-term relationship, and you’re a great guy but—”

“—we should just be friends,” Patrick says along with him, hiding his disappointment. “Sure,” he nods with a smile.

His date laughs nervously, as if he’s embarrassed and Patrick immediately sort of wants to punch the guy in his stupidly good-looking face because what the hell does _he_ have to be embarrassed by? He’s not the one being delegated to the friend zone (fourth time in a row, Patrick should get like an award for this shit).

“I’m sorry,” the guy says. “It really _is_ me. You’re just like the perfect bro and I’m not ready to jump into another relationship yet.”

 _So why did you agree to a date?_ Patrick wants to ask. Instead he smiles and waves it off with a shrug because his date really does look apologetic. No point getting angry about the guy not wanting to date him—it’s just an exercise in futility, Patrick knows, this is about how 99% of his dates end up. “It’s fine, seriously,” he keeps smiling as the valet drives up to the curb in his car.

He flushes with embarrassment when the valet climbs out the passenger side to get out before handing over his keys with a triumphant smile, like he’s achieved something by surviving driving Patrick’s piece of junk. Patrick slips the kid a little something extra for the effort—one of them should go home happy at least.

“So… let me know how that ‘Hawks game goes on the weekend,” Patrick says.

“Sure,” his date agrees with a smile. “I’ll see you around Pat.”

 _No_ , Patrick thinks as he slips into his car with ease, _you won’t_. By now he’s learnt that he’s not worth effort of making plans for. Sure, he’ll hear from the guy again, get some good banter over the phone, but actually making plans? He’d be worried about giving Patrick the wrong idea.

\--

“So,” Tyler asks as soon as he picks up, excited at the prospect of some gossip. “How did it go? Give me all the, hopefully, _dirty_ details.”

“Let’s just be friends,” Patrick replies. Tyler will need no further explanation and draw his own conclusions.

“Really? Again? What the fuck, Peeks? What is wrong with the men in Chicago? Jamie excluded, of course.”

“You know at this point I’m starting to think it might just be a problem with me,” Patrick sighs. “I’m so… _whatever_ … that they literally can’t think of me and sex in the same context.”

“You’re… good looking I guess,” Tyler tries. They really are like brothers—they’ve basically been inseparable since they met in university.

“Thanks, Segs. Good to know,” Patrick deadpans as he turns onto his street.

“You’re like my non-romantic soulmate, I can’t think of you being hot, like, ever. Ok maybe I can. I mean there was that one frat party we crashed when started stripping on the kitchen table and—”

“Anyway,” Patrick interrupts because there’s definitely no need to stroll down memory lane right now. “I’m home so I’ll let you go back to whatever you were doing to Jamie. Love you.”

“Love you too Patty-cakes! Bye!”

Patrick sighs and lets his head fall back against the headrest. All joking with Tyler aside, it was probably time he took a good hard look at himself to figure out what made him seem like a total non-option for men. He’s literally not had sex for like ten years so he’s hitting some seriously desperate times.

He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with him—if anything guys should be lining up to tap him. He’s 28, he has a stable career that pays relatively well, he’s smart, funny, owns his own home (ok so he needed a loan for his place but it’s going to look _amazing_ once he’s fixed it up), and he’s good looking. Sure, he’s no Patrick Sharp but he has defined abs, he works out, he’s not like… _hideous_ to look at… or well… at least he thinks so? He’s never quite sure what it is about him—probably because he’s never been brave enough to ask for a detailed critique on ‘how Patrick Kane can be less bro and more ho’.

He’s seriously contemplating whether he should message the guy and ask when someone taps on his window, scaring him half to death.

“Jesus Christ!” Patrick exclaims, dropping his phone and clutching his chest. “Warn a guy next time,” he gasps as Lauren pulls open his door, laughing her ass off.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, flapping her hand at him. “I couldn’t help myself. You’ve been sitting out here for ages Peeks.”

Lauren is currently renting a room. Tyler lives with Patrick too, the house big enough to deal with all of them (and Jamie when he comes to visit). They all know each other from their university days but while Tyler and Patrick had finished their degrees, Lauren had dropped out and gone looking for a better life which involved her not doing much work. She’s completely useless at life, keeps bouncing from job to job and can never afford the rent (even the miniscule rent he’s asking her for). But he can’t bring himself to kick her out or get angry about it—his sisters love her even if Tyler thinks she’s the devil’s spawn. They’re all close, and it’s nice to be able to come home and have the house not be empty. Plus, it’s actually kind of nice to have her around because his sisters are all back in Buffalo and he misses their company. She’s a bit of a wreck of a human being, but she pulls it off while looking spectacular so clearly, she’s doing something right.

“How did it go?” she asks, looping her arm through his as they climb the few steps to the front door.

He should start working on cleaning up the wrap around porch so it looks less like a haunted house but it’s cold and miserable weather and he thinks it’d be a better idea to wait until at least spring before he ventures outdoors. He’ll save the exterior for the end.

“Same old, same old. He wants to be friends,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“They just don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

“Thanks,” Patrick shoots her a small smile at her efforts at comforting him. She’s not so good at the whole emotional intelligence thing so she puts her foot in it more often than not.

The lounge is an absolute mess, paper strewn everywhere along with clippings from magazines, a scrapbook, some poster paper, scissors and glue (that he genuinely hopes is closed properly because he just bought that coffee table and it cost him half his monthly pay-cheque).

“What are you doing?”

“Oh my god, Pat! I’ve been reading this book and I’ve decided that I just have to do something with my life,” she gushes.

“Ok? So, what’s all this?” he asks gesturing at the mess.

“Research,” she grins, pulling him into the lounge and pointing at the poster that has cut-outs of half the Blackhawks team pasted to it with notes scrawled next to each of their faces. “It’s my plan for how I’m going to marry a hockey player.”

“Please tell me you’re shitting me,” Patrick asks, mortified. It’s like she’s hunting men for sport, admirable… yet very, very fucking creepy. He grimaces as he notices a few pictures of some of the coaching staff that are probably more than double her age—it’s a whole new level of wrong he’d never anticipated from her.

“I want to be someone important Patrick. Also, I want money. I figured this was the best way to go about it. What do you think? Genius plan, am I right?”

Patrick is speechless because this is so far beyond the realms of what he thought he’d be coming home to tonight. “I think I’m just going to head up to bed. Got an early start tomorrow.”

She nods along, completely distracted by her game-plan. “We’re going to have to go to a game, like, soon. Can you get us tickets? I’ll see when the girls are planning to go, and we’ll go together so you can teach me about it.”

“Sure,” Patrick sighs, defeated. Maybe if he buys her a ticket and is actually forced to watch a game, she’ll rethink her cunning plan to bag herself a rich hockey-playing husband. “Why not?”

“Night!”

Patrick waves over his shoulder as he clambers up the stairs. He’s too tired to deal with this shit now, he’ll save the lecture for tomorrow once he’s had a chance to process Lauren’s masterplan for a successful life.

\--

Patrick is staring incredulously at the mess in the lounge the next morning as he takes his time with his coffee. He moves to flick through the pages of the scrapbook Lauren’s left lying open on the coffee table. She must have been working on this for a lot longer than just a day he realises, there are notes on their salaries, the length of their current contracts, where the players hang out and notes from fellow puck bunnies are all scrawled neatly in the pages, along with a plan of entrapment and a five step plan to get to a successful engagement. It’s next level stalker shit is what it is, but Patrick knows she’s pretty harmless and he likes to think despite the whole ‘dumb jock’ thing, hockey players are smart enough to avoid someone like Lauren. It still makes him uncomfortable though, what happened to the good old days of meet-cutes and old-fashioned romance? Mapping out your romantic (and sex) life, Patrick grimaces as he flicks to her notes on sexual prowess, just seems cold to him. Who knew puck bunnies networked so well?

He spends the last half hour before he has to leave for work tidying up the lounge, throwing away bits of paper and shoving whatever looks important into the pages of her ‘how to bag a hockey player’ scrapbook. He’s annoyed about it because it’s not the first time he’s had to clean up after her, but he knows if he doesn’t do it now he’ll come back to this mess tonight and he knows he won’t want to deal with it. Some days he feels more like her maid than her housemate. He should probably chase up her rent too (she’s more than a week late, _again_ ) but looking at her new project makes him realise she probably hasn’t found a new job yet which means she has no money.

\--

“How’d it go? You’re going to have to repeat the whole spiel because after you hung up on me, Jamie’s dick made me forget _everything_.” Tyler bounces up to Patrick a few days later with a wide grin on his face.

He’s probably just got in from the airport, Patrick realises. His tattoos are all covered for once, long sleeves peeking out from beneath the generic sea-green scrubs, and he rolls his eyes when he notices Patrick looking at him in question. “Bettman… apparently he doesn’t want people to think he hires thugs. But who cares about that, how did the date go? Tell me, please, let me live vicariously through your sex life.”

“Really?” Patrick asks, walking into the employee locker room and ignoring his question. “You’ve been working here almost as long as I have and suddenly now the tattoos are a problem?” He pulls out a clean set of scrubs and quickly changes, not answering Tyler’s question in the hopes that he’ll drop the subject.

“Pat… Patty… please tell me you at least got some light groping?”

“Friend-zoned,” he reminds him, shrugging. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

“Really? Again?” Tyler groans, pulling him into the staff room. “If I wasn’t already attached at the hip, I’d do you Pat… even my dick feels sorry for you at this point.”

Technically they’re supposed to start the day with a formal staff meeting in an actual meeting room, but apparently they aren’t important enough for real meeting rooms so they all stand around the small staff room looking half dead, inhaling coffee that tastes like some dirt got mixed into hot water.

They have a few new cases coming in, enough to keep Patrick busy today and completely distracted.

“I’ll see you at lunch?”

Patrick nods before disappearing as the rest of the staff scatter. He has some research he needs to do in the library before his first appointment for the day.

\--

“Hey, you still interested in moving into like sports training?” asks Tyler, shoving a cube of pineapple into his mouth (apparently it makes him come taste sweet, Tyler swears by it).

“Yeah,” Patrick shrugs, poking at his own lunch (plain old tuna salad today… again). “But I don’t think it’ll come to anything. It’s more a hobby than a realistic career move. I wouldn’t even know where to start—and now with the home loan I just can’t take the risk, you know.”

“Are you sure this place is enough for you?”

“What does that even mean?” Patrick asks, confused. “I like it here.”

“I’m just worried you’re going to get bored of us!” Tyler explains. “You’ve done so much study and research into sports related injuries that you seem kind of wasted here. Not a lot of what we deal with relates to actual athletes.”

Patrick shrugs. “Like I said—it’s just a hobby.”

“Mmmm,” Tyler replies, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “Anyway, how’s the other housemate going? She paid her rent yet?”

“No,” Patrick mutters. “She’s still looking for work so she can’t afford it right now.”

“What _can_ she afford then? She’s a mooch Patrick, she’ll suck you dry before you know it, and not in the incredibly hot, fun and sexy way.”

“Apparently she can afford to make plans to become a gold-digger,” Patrick laughs. “Just wait until you get home, Segs, it’s fucking weird but she’s carefully planned like everything out for when she finds her victim of choice. I don’t know whether to be glad she’s eventually putting her mind to finding an income stream or worried that her whole life-plan is pinned on marrying rich.”

“Good luck to her,” Tyler mutters darkly. “Marrying rich? Really? Are there not more rewarding goals in life than being a kept woman… or man?”

“Clearly we’re doing it wrong, buddy.”

“Clearly,” sighs Tyler. “If Jamie didn’t need the job, we’d totally be living in the same state so I guess she might have the right idea.”

“Don’t have any plans to join him?”

“Nuh,” he replies, shaking his head. “The contract is only for a year and then he’s a free-agent again. I’ll move when he’s got something more long-term.”

“Oh, yeah… I have to get some tickets to the next home game. Do you want to come with? I told Lauren I’d get us tickets, but it’d be cool if you could come too.”

“Is Lauren paying for her own ticket?”

“No,” Patrick grumbles. “But come on… it should be a good laugh. She actually wants to be a puck bunny.”

Tyler’s response is laughing so hard the nurses on the surrounding tables in the cafeteria turn around to glare at them.

\--

Patrick pulls on his ‘Hawks jersey, just a plain one because his sisters give him so much shit about finding players hot if he wears a number (so does Tyler for that matter). He’s keen to get into the city early and avoid the worst of the traffic, maybe head somewhere for dinner before the game so they’re not stressed about getting to the UC in time for the game.

When he gets downstairs, he blinks in shock at Lauren because… _wow_. Also… _what the fuck_? Her long blonde hair is perfectly styled, face all done up, she’s in what Patrick thinks of as hooker heels (she could take out someone’s eye with those heels) and the dress she’s wearing fits like a second skin.

“Uhhh,” he says dumbly. “You do realise we’re going to a hockey game, right?” he asks, looking down at himself. He’s just in jeans and a team jersey, nothing special about it.

“Do you like it? I got this dress just for tonight,” she says while twirling, as if Patrick will appreciate the show. “You should dress up too, Peeks. Dress for the man you want to catch.”

“Again,” Patrick says, incredulous. “Just going to a game.”

“Yeah but we can go out after! Sam said she’d message me once she knows where they’re going for post-game drinks. Hopefully they win tonight so they’ll be happy-drinking. Although I guess I can be the distraction if they lose? Which do you think would work better?”

“Yeah, ok… I’m not going to touch that with a ten-foot pole. You’re going to get cold; we’re going to an ice rink. Bring a jacket at least.”

She shrugs it off, hand on her hip as she frowns at Patrick like he’s done something wrong by not cheering her on.

“Dinner before the game?” he asks, anticipating a ‘no’.

“Does this look like a dress I can eat a meal in? My stomach will pop out if I eat something now!”

Patrick sighs, slipping his keys back into his pocket and going into the kitchen instead. He’s got enough time to throw something together so he doesn’t starve at the game.

“Can you leave me some left-overs so I can eat when I get home tonight?”

Patrick wants to say no but he nods anyway. What’s the point of arguing?

\--

As predicted, she’s miserable by the first intermission, shivering in her ridiculously tiny dress, phone clutched in her hand like a lifeline.

“I’m cold,” she pouts, stating the obvious when Patrick slips back into his seat, beer in hand.

“No shit,” Patrick replies, unsympathetic. “You’re not getting my jersey,” he cuts her off before she can ask. “If you’re that cold, go buy one for yourself.”

She’s grumpy for the rest of the game, but Patrick doesn’t care much because the game is a lot more interesting. Despite trying to teach her nuances and the rules of the game, she’s more interested in texting her puck bunny friends so he gives up pretty early on and just enjoys being at the game instead. The game is great and the ‘Hawks beat the Blues with goals to spare. His favourite player, Toews, has a great night, netting himself three goals and an assist. Patrick can admit that he finds competency in the game hot, his blood warms just thinking about the way he’d played tonight, wonders what it’d be like to have that laser-sharp focus Jonny has at the face-off on him.

Yeah, Patrick thinks as the horn sounds the end of the game, he really needs to get laid if he’s fantasising about hockey players. It makes him feel uncomfortable, especially with Lauren panting after a whole team of them.

“Oh my god, Pat,” Lauren squeals, grumpiness disappearing as she checks her phone. “Sam invited me to go with her and the other girls! They apparently know where the team is going to be later. Are you sure you don’t want to come along?”

Patrick laughs and shakes his head because saying ‘ _fuck no_ ’ might come across a little too harsh. “Go ahead, enjoy yourself,” he says instead. He can finish up the main bathroom if she’s going to be out a while. Only a few small touches left, and it’ll be done. Tyler can keep him entertained like he usually does if he’s not having phone-sex with Jamie (again).

She presses a kiss to his cheek sweetly before disappearing into the crowd of people filing out of the arena. Patrick sighs to himself before making his way to the car. He needs to stop for fuel on his way home and the sooner he gets out of here the sooner he can stop thinking about riding number 19’s thighs.

It takes forever to get to his car, and even longer to eventually get out of the parking lot but he’s glad to be out of the malaise and heading home.

\--

“Stupid, fucking, piece of shit! Why won’t you just _work_?”

Patrick laughs, can’t help himself when he overhears whoever is behind him boil over in frustration.

He’d been at the pump, patiently waiting as the tank fills car when someone had pulled up to the pumping station behind him.

When he turns to look over his shoulder he wants to turn right back around, blush high on his cheeks, because right behind him, jabbing at their phone angrily, is none other than Jonathon Toews.

Patrick keeps his head down, not wanting to attract attention or make Toews uncomfortable (imagine just innocently filling the tank and getting stared at, or bothered, by some fan—Patrick is not that guy). But by the time he’s finished and making his way around his car Jonny looks defeated, shoulders slumped and staring up as if the peeling white paint is going to fix whatever his dilemma is.

“Uhhh, sorry to interrupt but… do you need some help?” Patrick asks.

Jonathon glares at him before saying icily, “… _no_.”

Patrick smirks because the effect is cute rather than terrifying. He shrugs and starts walking past Jonny’s car to get into the service station and pay. “You sure, buddy?” he asks over his shoulder, “You’ve been swearing at your phone for the better part of five minutes.”

Jonny’s eyes narrow at Patrick, flicking down to take in the ‘Hawks jersey he’s wearing, no name or number present. “I can’t get it unlocked to pay,” he admits, grumpy.

Patrick nods, life’s a bitch like that sometimes. It’s why he doesn’t pay with his phone and he always has his card on him. “Sucks. Can’t help you with the phone, but I’ll shout you the gas.”

Jonny frowns, unsure why a perfect stranger with a car that looks like it’s about to fall apart would offer to pay for his gas.

“Seriously, it’s no big deal,” Patrick shrugs, pushing his hands into his pockets to feel less awkward and making a move to go pay. He’s stopped short by Jonny’s hand tugging on his sleeve.

“Thanks,” Jonny says. “I… I don’t know how I can repay you, though.”

“Win us another cup?” Patrick replies innocently, dimples appearing in the corners of his smile.

“Oh, it’s like that is it?” Jonathon asks, returning Patrick’s smile. “You’re a fan then?”

“I bleed ‘Hawks red,” Patrick nods, shooting him a cheeky grin.

Jonathon laughs in reply, suddenly looking tired. “Jonathon,” he introduces himself, as if Patrick doesn’t know who he is, holding out his hand. “Jonny,” he quickly corrects himself.

“Patrick,” he says, sliding his hand into Jonny’s and biting on his bottom lip in nervousness. It’s a thing.

“Just Patrick?” he asks, not letting go of Patrick’s hand and eyes focused on Patrick’s mouth.

“Kane,” he says, feeling shy suddenly. “Patrick Kane.”

“Thanks, Patrick Kane.”

“No problem,” Patrick says again, shooting him a small smile and turning to leave. “Have a good night!” he calls over his shoulder.

“Hey! Wait!”

Patrick stops and turns, looking back at the Blackhawks captain in question.

“Uh… there’s a party in a few weeks… something stupid but you’re a fan so, you could maybe come? To meet some of the team. As a thank you for, for this,” Jonny says, gesturing at his car. If Patrick didn’t know any better, he’d say the captain was nervous.

“That’d be great, if you’re ok with that? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s like an open invitation thing, nothing special,” he assures Patrick. “You seem like an ok guy. Maybe I’d like to get your thoughts on our powerplay.”

Patrick laughs because it sounds like Jonny is trying to grasp at straws to see him again. It’s flattering, but Patrick knows better than let himself hope. He’s pretty sure if the captain of the Chicago Blackhawks was gay or bisexual, he’d have heard about it by now, or at least Jonny would know better than to be so obvious about it in a public space. “I don’t know if you want to hear my opinions about your powerplay. Can I bring a friend?”

“Afraid to hang out with a bunch of hockey players by yourself?” he asks with a smile.

“You’re pretty intimidating,” Patrick replies, grin back in place.

“Yeah? I’m a nice guy when you get to know me,” Jonny replies raking his eyes over Patrick in a way that leaves very little to misinterpretation. “But of course, you can bring someone.”

Patrick _has_ to be imagining things because the Jonny is definitely not blatantly checking him out front of a gas station. “Oh,” he replies, suddenly losing the ability to speak. “Uh… ok, just let me pay and I’ll be out, and you can give me the details.”

“Or I could just get your number?” Jonny suggests. Patrick has no idea what’s going on, because that cannot be a blush starting to creep up onto those perfect cheek bones. How… _endearing_.

“That… that works too. With your broken phone and all.”

“Ever heard of paper and a pen?” chirps Jonny.

Patrick sits in his car for a minute after paying for their gas and watching Jonny pull away. What the fuck just happened?

\--

Honestly, he doesn’t expect Jonny to hang onto his number long enough to have his phone fixed and then actually enter Pat’s details and then also message him like he said he would. It’s been a little over a week since their encounter and Patrick had honestly just assumed that Jonny had forgotten all about him.

 _Got my phone fixed (eventually)!_ the message says before listing the details of the party he’s been invited to.

How the hell is Patrick supposed to reply to that? He’s distracted by trying to come up with a response for the rest of his day. His patients think he’s stressing about texting a girl back, and he lets them (he’s learnt the hard way that you never disclose your sexuality to patients).

“What’s had your head up in the clouds all day then?” Tyler asks as Patrick shuffles into the employee locker room.

Patrick sighs, it’s been a long day and he still hasn’t figured out what he should text back to the captain (of the Blackhawks!!!!).

“Come on,” Tyler coaxes him, leaning over to tie his laces, “tell ol’ Segs here what the problem is.”

“You know how I went to that game with Lauren like a week ago?”

“Mmm,” Tyler murmurs. “That one where she dressed like a hooker and then complained about being cold the whole time?”

“Not like a hooker,” Patrick scolds. “But yes. She went off with her new puck bunny friends and I… went home. I had to stop for gas on the way though and I may or may not have met Jonathon Toews who happened to also need gas at the same time?”

“OH MY GOD,” Tyler yells, startling Patrick as he’s pulling his hoodie on over his scrubs. “Why didn’t you tell me when you got home? You fucking put grouting between the bathroom tiles while I lay in the corridor bitching at you, and you didn’t say anything? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“What the fuck dude?” Patrick exclaims. “Calm down! Jesus.”

“How could you have kept this from me?”

Patrick shoots him a withering glare before he shrugs and replies. “I honestly never thought anything would come of it. He was having issues with his phone and had forgot his wallet somewhere, so I paid for his gas and he asked for my number.”

“HOLY SHIT!”

“He’s not gay,” Patrick snaps. “Stop with all the yelling.”

“That you know of!” Tyler corrects him. “They’re all so deep in the closet they’re visiting Narnia on the regular.”

“Oh my god Tyler,” Patrick laughs, “really? Narnia?”

“Shut up,” Tyler snipes, poking him hard. “You love my pop-culture references and you know it. Stop trying to distract me… are you telling me he actually _messaged_ you?”

“Yeah? I mean, he invited me to some party in a few weeks. It sounds like a fundraiser thing, but he said he put my name down with a plus one.”

“Says you all blasé. That’s a big deal Peeks, don’t sell yourself short. Dudes don’t ask other dudes for their digits for random shit like that.”

“Are you free?”

“You want me to come with you? I’m honoured. When is it?”

“Three weeks, Friday night?”

“Shit,” Tyler replies, shoulders slumping in disappointment. “Jamie is here that weekend. I can’t Pat, sorry.”

“All good,” Patrick assures as he pulls his bag from his locker and closes it, keys in hand. “Maybe I’ll take Lauren so she can froth all over the team.”

“Do yourself a favour, Pat. Don’t take her along. I can tell you right now that that is a colossally bad idea.”

 _Thanks—looking forward to it_ Patrick eventually replies later that night. Because he doesn’t want to read too much into anything, and he genuinely believes this is one of those things that Jonny does because he’s a decent guy and he feels bad about Patrick paying for a full tank of gas.

\--

Patrick doesn’t have many friends in Chicago he’d be comfortable taking along to a party hosted by his favourite sporting team (ok so it’s mostly because he doesn’t know anyone at the party and he doesn’t want to be stuck with someone that’s going to be awkward about it), so despite Tyler’s warning he decides to take Lauren. To avoid the drama, he neglects to tell her about it until the day before the party though. He’s glad he had enough foresight to do so because she’s an absolute nightmare to deal with after he tells her—at one point he thinks she starts crying because she can’t decide on which dress to wear.

Patrick has a nice suit that he’s planning to wear, one that Tyler had insisted he wear for the occasion. Patrick isn’t the biggest fan of it because it’s tight around his thighs and ass and he’s worried one day he’ll sit down and rip a few seams (he really doesn’t ever need to live through that embarrassment) but Tyler tells him that that’s how suits are supposed to fit so he shrugs it off. Ripping his pants isn’t the worst thing that could happen tonight he guesses.

“You look nice,” Lauren compliments him when she teeters down the stairs in a rather demure dress and heels. “Maybe this is why the boys don’t want you normally, you don’t put enough effort into your appearance most of the time. You need to put this much effort in _all_ the time!”

Patrick rolls his eyes at the comment, it’s not a new observation. Even his sisters occasionally tell him to put more effort into clothes that ‘ _accentuate his assets_ ’. Personally, he wants a guy to like him no matter what he’s wearing or how he looks—he’s a physio at a rehab centre, he looks exhausted half the time. Dressing up in a fancy suit or jeans that feel too tight to be comfortable isn’t going to miraculously alter Patrick’s personality and suddenly make him desirable.

“Come on,” he says, holding his arm out for Lauren to take (because he’s gentleman, thank you). “Let’s get this over with.”

“Try and be less enthusiastic Peeks,” she replies sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “We’re going to a party, with hot guys. Hot guys with money and maybe even an open bar,” Lauren exclaims, nudging him before sliding gracefully into the passenger seat. “Hopefully there’ll be something to snack on too. I haven’t eaten in like a day.”

“Just… try and be normal tonight? Please?”

“I’m always normal!” she replies, looking slightly offended.

Patrick grimaces when she turns away from him, looking out the window as he starts the car. She doesn’t _look_ normal. He’s used to seeing her dress provocatively but tonight she has on a powder blue dress on that cinches in at her waist and flares loosely around her hips, stopping just below the knee. For a moment he wonders what her game plan is for tonight—he has a sneaking suspicion he’s not going to like it.

\--

The venue is cosy, small clusters of people huddled together and sipping cocktails in dim lighting. It feels intimate and not at all what Patrick had been expecting. It definitely doesn’t look like a team organised event. He has no idea what this party is for, just knows that he’s been invited, and it makes him nervous enough that his palms start to feel clammy.

“Oh! Sam is here too—I’m going to go say hello. Will you be ok by yourself?”

Patrick shrugs and nods. “Go, have fun,” he instructs with a sigh. So much for not ending up awkward and alone at the bar.

She shoots him a wide grin and waves over her shoulder as she melts into the small crowd.

 _God_ , Patrick thinks as he looks around. He _feels_ awkward and alone and uncertain. What the hell is he even doing here? He’s literally like a fish out of water. Why did he think was a good idea?

Just one drink, Patrick convinces himself. He’ll stay for just one drink and then he’ll go. The place looks like it’s expensive and Patrick worries about how much his drink is going to cost as he makes his way to the bar. He sighs in relief as he notices it’s an open bar—saves him the embarrassment of having to order a glass of water.

He’s going to be waiting a while to catch the bartender’s attention, so he takes the time to look around. It looks like most of the team are here, along with some of the guys from the Ice Hogs. There are plenty of girls as well, some he recognises as wives of the players and others he assumes are like Lauren and Sam (he likes to think of them as opportunists). He spots her laughing along with a tall brunette girl that he assumes must be Sam.

“Just a beer,” Patrick says when the bartender eventually gets to him. “Whatever you have on tap is fine.” He nods in thanks as the glass is slid in front of him.

“You made it!” Jonny greets him, excited as he places a warm hand on Patrick’s shoulder.

Patrick smiles, turning to greet Jonny. “Hey! Yeah, I did. This place looks really nice, thanks for inviting me.”

“No problem, it’s good to see you,” he smiles reassuringly, his hand sliding from Pat’s shoulder and down his arm to squeeze his wrist lightly before letting go. “I’m really glad you could make it. You look… you look great.”

Patrick can feel the blush creeping onto his face, but he hopes Jonny doesn’t notice. “Thanks,” he replies shyly. “You look great too. So, what’s the… uh… the occasion?” he asks, gesturing around them.

“A birthday thing, not mine,” shrugs Jonny, shifting closer to Patrick and steadying him as someone stumbles up to the bar and knocks into Patrick.

This is… they’re _flirting_. Or… at least he hopes they’re flirting. Suddenly he wishes Tyler was here because he knows way more about this stuff than Patrick does. If it is flirting, Patrick can definitely, 100% get behind this because Jonny seems like someone he’d really get along with, with the added bonus of being really attractive. He doesn’t step back from Jonny despite them being closer than two guys would normally be.

Jonny tugs gently on a curl to get Patrick’s attention. “I didn’t realise your hair was so curly. I like it.”

“What? Oh, uh… thank you.” Could Patrick literally be anymore awkward?

“You were wearing a hat when I last saw you,” Jonny says with a smile.

“Yeah, uh, they can be a bit of mess sometimes so it’s just easier to hide them most of the time.” _Stop talking about your hair_.

“So—”

“Oh my god, Patrick!” Lauren interrupts, pushing between them, her back to Jonny. “We totally have to go. Amanda just called me, and they need an extra person for the kids’ event they’re holding at the high school because one of their volunteers totally just flaked.”

Patrick looks very confused; it’s clearly written all over his face because he has no fucking idea who Amanda is (she doesn’t know any Amanda that he knows of) and he has no idea what she’s talking about because she sure as hell doesn’t volunteer and she hates kids. His eyes flick to Jonny and he just… wants to go crawl into a corner and die because whatever was happening before is gone. His focus is entirely on Lauren, clearly captivated (she is beautiful, Patrick can admit).

“Give me a shot of tequila,” he instructs the bartender who is watching the events unfold with little concealed interest. “Please.”

“Hey,” Jonny greets, moving out from behind her so he can speak to her directly. “Jonathon Toews,” he introduces himself, holding out his hand.

“Lauren,” she replies, acting unimpressed as she shakes his hand and turns back to Patrick. “Pat, come on… let’s go.”

“You two know each other?” Jonny asks.

“This is Lauren,” Patrick introduces before knocking back the shot. He hadn’t even had time to have his beer. “We went to university together for a little while and she’s currently living with me.”

Lauren makes an impatient huff and turns to go, hoping Patrick will follow because he’s her ride out of here after all.

“Hey, uh, don’t leave,” Jonny tries. “The party’s just getting started.”

Lauren gives Jonny a tight smile and Patrick just watches, fascinated. How the fuck did this happen?

“Wait—can I at least get your number?” Jonny asks, eager like a puppy dog. Patrick is tempted to order another shot if he has to witness anymore of this.

“What was your name again?” she asks, playing him like a fiddle.

“Jonny.”

“Look, Jonny… I’m sorry, but I’ve like tried the whole dating a hockey player thing and it just doesn’t work for me,” she says impatiently.

Maybe Patrick should just ask for the whole bottle of tequila. It’s not like he exists anymore anyway, he might as well become one with a piece of furniture after he drowns himself at the bottom of the bottle.

“Come on Peeks,” she says, grabbing Patrick’s wrist. “We really have to go. The kids are waiting.”

Patrick shoots Jonny an apologetic look but he shouldn’t have even bothered. He doesn’t even register in Jonny’s eyes anymore. He’d really thought… but he hadn’t been reading anything wrong damnit! There had been _flirtation_. But… he’s a guy and Toews probably isn’t out of the (clearly) bisexual closet and Lauren is… well, Lauren. He’d probably go for Lauren too if he was in Jonny’s position—she’s gorgeous, definitely a bombshell, with the perfect supermodel good looks that have men panting after her. She’s also a safer option for someone that hasn’t made their sexual preference public knowledge.

He doesn’t bother looking back over his shoulder as they leave.

\--

“What the fuck was that?” Patrick asks as they’re walking back to his car. He’s angry even though he knows there’s no point to being angry. He can’t control who Jonny is attracted to so there’s no use getting upset about it. It’s just another punch he’s got to roll with.

“Sam says he’s like different from the other guys, so I gave him different,” she shrugs. “Do you think it worked?”

“Yeah,” Patrick sighs. Clearly it fucking did. He should’ve listened to Tyler and just gone there alone, but he’d been too nervous. There’s nothing worse than being awkwardly alone in the middle of a party (not that she didn’t run off as soon as she could). “It worked all right. Aren’t you worried about him finding out about the real you? You hate kids and I’ve never seen you volunteer.”

Not like Patrick who owns a small percentage of a rundown ice rink that they try to keep running for the community and coaches a team of tiny hockey players for free.

Lauren shoots him a look that makes him think she thinks he’s a dumbass. “What? Like he’s going to check if I go to some stupid volunteer or charity thing? I can make it happen, Patrick. I’ve got a plan if I need it.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, uncomfortable with the whole thing. He especially hates that she’s pulled him into her deception—he wants nothing to do with this. “It just seems kind of dishonest.”

“Like being honest is working out for you, or has ever worked out for me,” she dismisses as they get to his car. “Look,” she says, turning to face him and pressing a hand to his arm reassuringly. “I get it. I get what you mean. But there’s no rules saying we can’t bend the truth a little to get what we want. If we go on a few dates and he likes me, I’ll bend things back a little. I’m just getting my foot in the door.”

Patrick doesn’t say anything further about it. He’ll delete Jonny’s number from his phone and forget about it. A vindictive part of him, buried deep, thinks that Jonny deserves whatever is coming if he’s going to ignore her personality because he finds her attractive.

Patrick should be used to being overlooked by now, should probably be glad Lauren distracted him from getting to know Patrick any better. He probably would’ve ended up friend zoned as usual anyway, she’d just sped up the whole awkward process a bit is all.

\--

“I’m going to be sucking your dick out of pity one day,” Tyler delivers deadpan as they slide into their usual seats in the cafeteria. “You literally cockblocked yourself by taking her. Even Jamie agrees with me on this.”

“Sex isn’t everything,” Patrick says, ignoring the part of him that hurts a little at being overlooked _again_. “Plus… it’s fine. I’ve never done the boyfriend thing anyway and I’m probably way too independent nowadays to deal with someone else encroaching on my life. I’d end up being too distant or whatever because I want to have my own life.”

“Don’t you get lonely?” Tyler asks, quiet and careful.

 _Yes_. “No,” Patrick replies, giving Tyler a reassuring smile. “I’m not lonely. I like my own company, I’m happy with myself. Having a person isn’t a need for me,” he explains. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? “Really it’s more like a ‘nice to have’.”

“What about sex?”

Patrick shrugs. “What about it? It’s not like toys don’t do the job just as well, or better, nowadays. I can take care of myself just as well as any guy could.”

“You only say that because the one time you tried to have sex you ended up with mister one-thrust wonder and if you had more than one asshole, he would’ve gotten lost.”

Patrick laughs at the memory, because if he didn’t, he’d probably cry about it. It had been one of those situations where he’d built it up so much, expecting things to go a certain way after educating himself and selecting someone with experience specifically for the purpose of popping his cherry. The guy had been nice enough, really smart and engaging and charming, but he’d barely fingered Patrick open, had barely used lube when he pushed his dick into him (had tried to forget using a condom). He’d totally freaked out when he’d noticed Patrick wincing in pain, pulled out and then… just ignored the fact that he was hard, and Patrick wasn’t. They’d slept the night together, no one getting off, and Patrick had left in the morning with his head held high. It had been a fucking painfully awkward situation (also painful, he’s lucky the guy didn’t do some damage—clearly not as experienced as Patrick had been led to believe). He chose to laugh about it because as bad as it had been, he doesn’t regret it, never had either. It had taught him that he couldn’t do one-night stands like some guys. He needed the intimacy of someone just knowing him, remembering his name, connecting with him on some level before falling into bed with them.

What he’d said to Tyler wasn’t a lie—he knows he’s not normal, not like other his people in his generation or his age—but most of the time he’s so busy with his career, his life, his family, his friends… he doesn’t even feel lonely. It’s only occasionally that he feels that crippling loneliness that makes him think he’s not good enough (crippling self-doubt too), like he’s some kind of freak for wanting something more than sex _before_ getting to the sex part.

“Maybe I should just get myself a dog?” Patrick asks Tyler, stabbing some of the lettuce in front of him. “All the cuddles without the drama.”

“You work too much for a dog. You barely have time to date let alone having an adorable fluffy life depend on you. Plus, Lauren would probably steal it off you at the rate you’re going.”

“True,” Patrick concedes. “It seems like a nice thought to have though.”

“Has he messaged you since then?”

“He asked for her number,” Patrick admits. He hasn’t told Lauren that—and he’d lied and told Jonny that he doesn’t think that would be respectful of Lauren’s wishes. “I didn’t give it to him. Haven’t heard from him since.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I’m not helping Lauren lie to him. He’s a good guy, he deserves better.”

“He deserves you,” Tyler sighs, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand reassuringly. “You did the right thing. Better to keep your nose clean and not let yourself get involved with her schemes.”

\--

Patrick is rushing out the front door (he wants to get into work early) a few weeks later when he runs straight into none other than one Jonathon Toews. Jonny steadies him, making sure Patrick doesn’t stack it in shock. Getting and armful of Jonny on his doorstep is definitely a surprise. Clearly, he’d just been about to knock, and Patrick has just barrelled into the poor guy instead.

“Jonny?” asks Patrick stupidly. This is… very unexpected, also how does Jonny know where he lives?

“Patrick, hey. Glad I found the right place,” he greets with a smile.

It makes Patrick feel weak at the knees and for a moment he let’s himself hope that Jonny is here for him.

“Is Lauren in?”

 _Oh_. “Uh, sure,” Patrick says, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He backs into the doorway and gestures into the house. “Please, come in.”

Jonny looks around curiously as Patrick follows him in and closes the door behind them (because he is so not leaving until he knows what the hell is going on).

“Lauren!” Patrick yells up the stairs. “Are you up yet? There’s someone here to see you!”

“This place is yours?” he asks Patrick as they wait. “It’s really nice.”

“Oh, thanks,” Patrick replies. “I got it about a year ago and I’ve been fixing it up a little bit at a time, you know? I’m pretty pleased with how it’s turning out so far.”

“You did all this?”

Patrick shrugs. “I mean, the house has good bones, but it took a bit of work to get it looking like this. I’m still going—replacing all the windows is my next job and I still need to finish the kitchen.” Lauren still hasn’t appeared, so Patrick tries again, yelling out her name a few more times before he hears a loud thud and the sounds of her rushing around.

“That’s a lot of medical books you have,” Jonny observes, pointing to a bookshelf behind Patrick.

Patrick really needs to move that back into the loungeroom. “Yep,” Patrick nods awkwardly. Jonny isn’t here for him, doesn’t give a shit about Patrick. “I’m a physio at a rehabilitation centre.”

“Wow,” Jonny says, focus shifting onto Patrick for the first time since he’d turned up. “You’re really smart, eh?”

Patrick nods. It’s the one thing he’s never shy about (even though Tyler tells him repeatedly he needs to tone it down and not agree whenever someone points it out). Yeah—he’s smart, smart enough to get two degrees and then add a master’s degree while working fulltime because he got bored with all the free time he had. He’d finished it last year—he wants a doctorate, but he thinks he’ll wait until he’s older, doesn’t want to start collecting degrees to fill his free time because they’re expensive and he’s ridiculously lucky his parents paid for the first two. Besides, the house is challenging enough as it is without adding a doctorate into the mix.

“Speaking of,” Patrick says with a thin smile. “I have to get going or I’ll be late. She’ll be down soon.”

Jonny just nods in reply, and Patrick doesn’t bother with a fond farewell as he leaves the house. Fuck it, if he wants Lauren, he’s welcome to her… in fact, they’re welcome to each other.

But he pauses just outside the door because he can’t help himself—this is one private conversation that’s not going to be private. He has a right to hear it, it’s his house god damnit.

“Hey,” he hears Lauren greet Jonny shyly. “What… what are you doing here?”

“I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I know you said that you’d tried dating hockey players before. But they weren’t me.”

He misses whatever Lauren says in reply because he walks away. No point in listening further… she’s got him hook, line and sinker. There’s no way she’s not ending up with a date with Jonny.

And so, Patrick laments, he’ll just melt into the background again. He deletes Jonny’s number again as soon as he’s in his car. Out of sight, out of mind. No point in keeping it because he’s not going to torture himself by watching their relationship from the side-lines.


	2. Chapter 2

_One year later…_

Patrick is curled up in his bed, hiding in the warm cocoon of his blankets. It’s cold enough to admit that summer is on its last legs and he’ll soon be sweeping up autumn leaves and thinking about carving pumpkins and making pies. He’s finished renovating his home—he’s quietly proud of himself. He really loves how it’s all turned out and that most of it he managed to do on his own. It’s warm and comfortable and quiet… so quiet.

Lauren had moved out a few months ago. Jonny and her have a place closer to the arena but from the pictures she sends to their group chat it looks like they spent the summer on some sun-soaked beach sipping cocktails and working out together (he doesn’t remember her ever going to the gym but apparently she does now). He’s not bitter about it, they look happy and if they find happiness in each other, who is he to say anything? Admittedly he enjoys Tyler’s commentary about it all because he’s definitely being a dick about the whole thing, but Lauren seems oblivious to his replies to her pictures or messages.

He crawls out of his nest of blankets when he hears his phone buzz with a new message. Jamie is back and he’s coming over for dinner tonight so he assumes it’s Tyler, asking if they he needs to pick up any last-minute groceries on their way home.

He frowns when he sees the screen though. He hasn’t heard from Jonny at all since he and Lauren had started dating, so seeing a message from him makes him wary. Patrick refuses to be his friend, doesn’t particularly enjoy torturing himself for the hell of it. It’s better if he keeps away.

_Pre-season party at our place next week Saturday_ , it says, _I’d really appreciate it if you’d come, Pat. I know Lauren misses you. I’ve given you plenty of warning—so no excuses this time!_

He’s not wrong—Patrick has been avoiding them. Every time he sees them playing the happy couple it makes him uncomfortable because he knows so much of it is a lie. Lauren is someone completely different around Jonny and he’s not sure how she isn’t so _tired_ from pretending to be someone else all the time. It’s easy to avoid them anyway—Patrick is busy with work and his community ice rink so much so that he cherishes the time he spends alone and with his close friends these days.

He remembers when he’d tried to talk to Jonny about Lauren, but it _really_ hadn’t ended well. It’s not his place, he’d been told. After that… well, Patrick had thought the best course of action would be to cut himself loose because he hadn’t wanted to make things awkward or uncomfortable for them. Also… he’d been so tired of swallowing the bitter pill of being second-best to literally anyone else in the world that he hadn’t wanted to stick around and put himself through it all over again.

He doesn’t reply. Hopefully Jonny will leave it at that and make the assumption that he won’t be there.

\--

“Really?” Tyler asks, incredulous as he dishes up a plate for himself. “This is the guy that told you to stay out of his business and now suddenly he wants you at some pre-season hoo-ha he’s hosting with the wicked witch of the west?”

Jamie looks totally lost, flicking between Patrick and Tyler as they speak. Patrick’s not entirely sure what Tyler has told Jamie, but it doesn’t look like much.

Patrick shrugs before reaching for Jamie’s wine glass to refill it.

“This is the drama with the Blackhawks captain and the housemate from hell that used to ogle you, babe,” Tyler prompts. “Remember?”

“Oh,” Jamie nods. “You should be drinking more Pat, clearly you need it.”

Patrick smiles sarcastically and takes a swig from the almost empty wine bottle because he’s classy like that.

“So… are you going to go?” Jamie asks.

Tyler leans into his space, pressing their shoulders together and placing a kiss on Jamie’s cheek. “No,” Tyler replies for him. “Patrick is going to do what he does best and ignore the problem until it goes away.”

“You’re not wrong,” Patrick sighs. “Also, are we really going to call it a problem? It’s less a problem and more like… a situation that is no longer relevant to me.”

“Yeah,” Jamie drags out. “It’s a problem. Especially if you keep being dragged back into it. Is this like some weird three-way? A forbidden and illicit love triangle?”

“No!” Patrick says, indignant. “I haven’t spoken to either of them for months.”

“So, he like, never checks you out?” Tyler pushes.

Patrick huffs out a breath and takes another drink directly from the bottle because fuck whatever this interrogation is. “He’s not dead,” Patrick assumes, “he’s welcome to look wherever he pleases. There’s no crime against appreciating the view.”

“Big words for someone trying to avoid reality so much that you’re turning down a party where there will literally be, at minimum, a whole team of hockey players. You do realise you can avoid them at the party too?” Jamie replies cheekily.

“You know what—no more talking about this! Mind your own damn business.”

“You’re the one that brought it up!” Tyler exclaims in mock outrage.

“Yeah well… I’m un-bringing it up,” Patrick grumbles.

“And to think,” Tyler stage whispers to Jamie, eyes bright with mischief, “this is the guy that claims to have _three_ degrees. ‘Un-bringing’ isn’t a real word Patrick.”

Patrick watches on as Tyler smiles softly when Jamie starts laughing. This is one of those rare occasions where he wishes he had something like what they shared.

“Eat your food and stop badgering me,” Patrick instructs, locking his thoughts away.

\--

_Patrick._

_God-fucking-damnit_ , Patrick wants to yell at his phone and Jonny's stupid messages. He wishes he were home so he could scream into a pillow or something.

Jonny has been like a dog with a bone. He sighs—there’s probably no way to get out of it. He’s worried Jonny is going to like, turn up at the house or the rehab centre if he doesn’t reply soon. The party is supposed to be tomorrow and it’s one of those rare Saturdays where Patrick doesn’t have to do anything, so he’d been planning to just… not do anything. Maybe a bath? Maybe lounging in bed all day with a book? Maybe lounging on the couch all day and binging a TV series? Maybe walking in on Tyler and Jamie having sex in awkward places (it’s a thing… Patrick has blinded by their love-making way too much since Jamie moved back to Chicago)?

_I’ll be there_ , he eventually replies. Short and sweet. Maybe Jonny won’t notice if he just doesn’t show up? There’s not much hope of that happening though given how relentless he’s been.

\--

Patrick pastes on his smile when he walks into their home.

“PEEKS!” squeals Lauren, throwing her hands in the air as she practically jumps on him.

It’s enough to make him feel guilty he’s been avoiding her for so long. She’s practically a part of his Chicago family, he should’ve been able to put his resentment (which really had more to do with himself than it did with her) aside to make sure he was there for her.

“Hey,” he greets her, smile turning genuine.

“You came!” she grins.

“Of course,” he replies. “I’ve been super busy with work, but I missed you so here I am.” It’s not exactly a lie, but it’s not the truth.

“Missed you too,” she says, hugging him tight.

“Patrick, good to see you,” Jonny gives him a small smile. “Glad you could make it.”

“I’m glad too,” he replies with a tight smile.

“Let me give you the tour! Jonny, we’ll be right back, ok?”

Jonny smiles placatingly and presses a kiss to her cheek before leaving them to it. Patrick thinks he looks nervous, unsure of something, but he shrugs it off as Lauren loops her arm through his and pulls him along through their home.

“It’s beautiful,” Patrick assures her when they finish up in one of the guest bedrooms, the final stop of the tour.

Lauren perches on the edge of the bed and pats the spot next to her. Patrick obliges, unsure why she wants to talk to him alone.

“We’re thinking about this being the nursery,” she smiles, eyes bright.

Patrick is surprised… shocked might be a better word for it though. They’ve barely been dating a year and they’re talking about kids already?

“The crib is going to go there,” she points to a cosy looking corner of the room, “and I want a rocking chair. Don’t you think that would just be so cute?”

“Are you pregnant?” Patrick suddenly blurts out, totally without tact.

“Oh my God, Patrick!” she laughs a little hysterically. “No!”

“Oh… that’s… that’s, uh, good.” Patrick nods then, looking around the room and letting the silence settle over them. It’s almost to the point of being awkward when he asks, “are you happy? With Jonny?”

“Yes!” Lauren gushes, taking Patrick’s hands and squeezing them tightly before letting go and standing. “I’m so happy! Jonny is perfect, Patrick. I think… I think he’s like the one for me.”

“Good,” Patrick replies with a smile. “I’m glad.”

“Come on,” she gestures, “let’s get back to the party.”

The party is in full swing a few hours later and Patrick isn’t _not_ enjoying himself, but he’s imagining a bath with his name on it—quiet, warm and with a shot of brandy or something to help him relax (maybe he’ll even use one of those stupidly glittery bath bombs his sisters had sent him).

Patrick Sharp (‘ _please call me Sharpy_ ’) and his wife Abby have been speaking with him for most of the night which has been nice, he admits. He’s met them a few times at these sorts of things and they’ve taken him under their wing. They’re a really nice couple and Sharpy’s stories about pranking Jonny when he’d made the team always make him laugh.

They all turn in question when they hear Jonny asking for everyone’s attention and Patrick suddenly feels his stomach drop. His mind is racing as he realises there was definitely a specific reason Jonny wanted him here.

“Lauren? Where are you?”

She’s giggling and blushing as she goes up to him, hand held out to lace their fingers together as soon as Jonny is in reach.

“Lauren,” Jonny says, nervous.

“Oh boy,” Sharpy mutters under his breath. “Mama bear on the move.”

Patrick glances around, noticing Andree Toews stalking closer to where the commotion is. She looks _very_ unhappy. He tries to think back but Lauren has never messaged them about meeting the in-laws.

“I wanted to share this moment with all our friends,” Jonny huffs out a laugh. “Lauren… you’ve just… taken me completely by surprise. Honestly, I have no idea how I managed before you. I love you. So,” he drops to one knee and pulls out a rather large ring box, “do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?”

Patrick can literally feel the blood disappearing from his face. He imagines he looks as white as a sheet of paper but, he flicks his gaze to Jonny’s mother, clearly not as upset or surprised as Andree currently is. She looks mortified by the turn of events.

Lauren is squealing and jumping up and down, flashing her ring around to all the girls that are coming up to her and cooing over the huge rock on her finger.

“Oh _shit_.” Sharpy looks suitably horrified along with his wife.

“I was not expecting that,” agrees Abby. She shoots Patrick a guilty look. “Sorry, I mean, I know she’s your friend. I guess I just don’t know her that well. She’s lovely, I’m sure,” she tries to placate him.

“Isn’t this _too soon_?” Andree hisses at Sharpy as she storms up to them. Jonny has noticed and looks upset that she hasn’t come to congratulate them yet and instead gone over to Sharpy.

“Andree, this is Patrick,” Sharpy interrupts her. “Lauren is Patrick’s friend.”

Andree shoots him a dirty look, as if this whole thing is Patrick’s fault. “I’m not shy about saying I don’t like her. She’ll bleed him dry.”

Patrick just wants to disappear because really… thinking back to that poster and the scrapbook she’s not really far off the mark.

“Look,” Abby says, stepping between them. “Clearly Jonny sees something in her that we don’t. I’m sure he’s thought about all this carefully, he’s not one to rush into stuff like this.”

“I think she really loves him if that’s any consolation,” Patrick tries, thinking to earlier when they’d been talking in the future nursery. She had seemed content, happy… excited that she’d be spending at least the foreseeable future with Jonny.

Andree sighs and looks at Patrick, staring him down as if he has all the answers. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake,” she begs him. “Not just for Jonny, but for Lauren too.”

He doesn’t say anything, can’t, because he doesn’t actually know them as a couple that well. It makes Andree scoff and cross her arms across her chest, angry.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick says, voice soft with regret. He wishes he could reassure her about this, but it’s not his place to.

She sighs and pats him on the arm. “You seem like a nice boy,” she comments. “Thank you for not lying to me.”

Patrick grimaces, half of Jonny’s team is glaring at their little circle of people and the other half is celebrating. Andree looks like she wants to kill Lauren or Jonny… or both. He should probably go. “I should go.”

“And leave the rest of us to this clusterfuck? Kaner, you are a cruel man,” Sharpy looks to him pleadingly and nudging Abby with his elbow.

“Nonsense,” Andree says. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to distract me from this disaster and we’re all going to hope that this proposal doesn’t end in tears.”

“He’s good people Mrs Toews,” Sharpy assures, gesturing to Patrick. “He’s a physiotherapist.”

“Oh?” Andree asks, attention focused on him. “Smart _and_ handsome? A rare combination in these circles!”

“You wound me Andree,” Sharpy pouts.

\--

“Oh Jonathon,” Andree sighs, tapping his cheek lightly. “What am I going to with you, hmm?”

“Nothing,” he replies petulantly, crossing his arms defensively. He’d wanted his mother to be happy for him, damnit, not worried. She always worries about him.

“Are you sure?”

She’s asking about the proposal, asking about whether he’s sure about Lauren.

“Yes!”

Andree holds her hands up with a small frown and shrugging. “I only ask because this is the first time you’ve introduced me to her! I don’t know her at all, it just seems a bit rushed, Jon. You’ve barely known her a year.”

She has a point, he concedes. He hasn’t known her very long and it does seem like a bit of a whirlwind romance… and there’s a small part of him that has doubts, but it’s a very small part of him. Isn’t it supposed to feel like this? You can’t be certain a play will work every time you go out onto the ice, and it’s the same for long-term commitments like this… there’s always a risk it won’t work out.

“Do you not like her?” he asks, suddenly worried. He’s not sure what he’ll do if she doesn’t like Lauren… honestly, he hadn’t factored his family into the decision at all. He probably should’ve.

“That’s not very fair, Jon,” she scolds gently, “I haven’t been given the opportunity to know her.”

He grimaces because it’s true. Somehow, he’s managed to keep Lauren and his family very separate and its strange because he’s never done that before, has always wanted his mother’s approval before.

“If this is what you want though, who am I to stop you?” she smiles, reaching up to cup his face in her hands and press a kiss to both cheeks. “I am happy for you, I only hope you know what you’re both getting yourself into, Jon.”

Jonny nods, pulling her into a quick hug. He wonders how, even now when he towers over her, she can still make him feel so small.

\--

“Wow… just, fucking _wow_. Jamie is going to lose his shit when I tell him about this when we get home,” Tyler says, eyes wide with shock and expression full of disbelief.

It’s a rare warm autumn day and they’re spread out on the grass in a nearby park for lunch. Patrick doesn’t bother replying to Tyler, just turns his face a little more into the sunshine to soak it all up while he still can. He can feel the chill in the air, but he knows this will likely be last day they’ll be able to enjoy the outdoors before autumn really sets in.

“How are you holding up?” Tyler asks, poking him in the ribs.

Patrick slaps his hand away in annoyance and turns to glare at him. “I’m fine,” he replies, shrugging and turning back into the sun. “Wish them well, hope they have beautiful hockey babies, etcetera.”

“Really? Is there not even a little part of you that’s just super fucking bitter about this?”

“No?” he says, turning to shoot Tyler a confused glance. “Why would I be bitter? No point in crying over spilt milk, Tyler. It’s a waste of time and energy.”

Tyler quirks his eyebrow at him… and, ok, yeah, he has plenty of reasons to be bitter but that doesn’t mean he is. He’s more regretful? Like he’d missed out on an opportunity because he hadn’t been brave enough to stand up for himself back at that party Jonny had invited him to. It’s no one’s fault that things ended up the way they did, that was just how life played out sometimes.

“I’m not bitter,” Patrick affirms, more strength in his voice. “They both seem really happy, and I honestly think that Lauren may genuinely love him. What more could you want out of a love story?”

Tyler snorts out an involuntary laugh. “Honesty would be pretty good but there doesn’t seem to be a lot of that going on in that relationship.”

“We don’t know that,” Patrick admonishes. “For all we know she could’ve told him everything!”

“Does she really seem like the sort that would tell him she basically entrapped him?”

“She did not!”

“Oh, come on, Peeks,” Tyler snaps. “Stop standing up for her! Stop being blind to the fact that she’s really not a very nice person. She tried to sleep with me that one time, remember? I’m GAY for crying out loud.”

Patrick is quiet for a few seconds before they both burst into laughter.

“Patrick?”

Patrick is still laughing as he sits up to see who it is that wants him. Probably an intern sent to look for him.

He stops laughing immediately because Jonny is standing in front of him, clearly mid-run. “Jonny! Uh… hi?”

“Hey,” he smiles, eyes darting to Tyler.

Tyler is sat up, Patrick realises, and glaring at Jonny. “This is Tyler,” Patrick introduces them. “We work together and he’s the other housemate.”

“Oh,” Jonny says, eyes darting between them with a questioning look. “You work nearby?”

“Yeah,” Patrick answers, pointing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the rehabilitation centre. “Just thought we’d enjoy the last of the decent weather during our break.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to speak much the other night,” Jonny says apologetically.

Tyler snorts in disbelief and Patrick shoots him a glare before waving it off. “It’s fine, really. Congratulations by the way. I got to meet your mom,” he adds, smiling. “She’s pretty awesome—kept Sharpy on me on our toes the whole night.”

Jonny is shocked for a moment before he hides it beneath a smile. He hadn’t even been aware that his maman had been speaking to them for most of the night. She loves Sharpy, but he’s surprised at how attentive she must have been towards Patrick. “She’s great,” he agrees.

“So,” Tyler interrupts. “We should probably head back. Lunch is almost over.”

Jonny holds out his hand to Patrick and he ignores the spark he feels when their hands meet as he helps Patrick up.

“Enjoy the rest of your run,” Patrick smiles warmly up at him, pulling away quickly.

“Patrick?” Jonny asks, and he’s not sure why because he has nothing to say, nothing to ask, just wants that smile directed at him a little longer. For a moment he remembers that Patrick was the reason he’d met Lauren, Patrick and his beautiful smile.

“Yeah?” Patrick prompts after Jonny has let the silence drag on for a little too long to be comfortable.

_Shit_ , Jonny thinks, scrambling for something to say. “Did you want to come to a game?” He wants to cringe because really, is that the best he could come up with? “I mean, Lauren would love it of you went with her to a home game. I don’t think the other girls have warmed up to her yet so I’m sure she’d appreciate the company.”

“Oh. Uh… sure, I could make that work. Just let me know when, ok?”

“Ok,” Jonny agrees stupidly.

“Anyway,” Patrick nods, gesturing over his shoulder. “I really have to get going.”

“Yeah, of course. See you around?”

“Yeah, Jonny. See you around.”

_Well_ , Jonny thinks to himself as he continues on with his run, _that was fucking awkward_.

\--

“He definitely wants to fuck you,” Tyler says as they walk back to the rehab centre. “Those were bedroom eyes no matter how much you deny it. How the fuck did you manage to get into the shit-pile with both of them? This is literally like soap opera levels of drama.”

“At least I get a free game out of it I guess,” Patrick sighs, resigned. Tyler is never going to let this go now.

\--

“Really, Peeks,” Lauren tuts at him, shaking her head. She’s clearly unimpressed with his attire. “You really should put more effort into how you dress.”

Patrick looks down at himself and frowns because he thinks he looks fine. He’s got on a Blackhawks cap pulled backwards over his curls, a ‘Hawks sweatshirt and some jeans… it’s a game, not a party or some kind of fashion show. What the hell? He’s not the one trying to impress people.

“Don’t you want to wear Jonny’s jersey?” asks Patrick. She’s in a small black dress with an admittedly cute jacket. Still… she’s about to go watch her fiancé play and she’s not wearing his number? Even he can admit that that feels a little weird.

“Don’t be silly, it’s too big and baggy. This looks way better don’t you think?”

Has she ever worn his number? Patrick wonders to himself as she does a little twirl. “Sure.”

“Come on, let’s get going! I’ll try and introduce you to the wives and girlfriends club but be warned, they’re all a little frigid,” she explains, rolling her eyes as she loops their arms together and pulls him out her front door. “I try to avoid them most of the time to avoid getting roped into family events and their charity stuff.”

Patrick thinks about Abby as she says it, because Abby doesn’t seem frigid at all—she’s warm and kind and made Patrick feel like less of a stranger at the surprise engagement party.

They’re a little early, earlier than Patrick would ever dream of getting to the game anyway but he guesses the ‘wives and girlfriends club’ likes to hang out a little before the games to gossip and keep the kids entertained until puck-drop. Lauren slips in quietly, texting someone furiously on her phone but she doesn’t bother trying to interact very much with the others, or even him, so Patrick is just left standing there awkwardly.

It’s a few minutes before Abby bursts in, kids in tow and it doesn’t take long before she spots Patrick.

“Pat!” she exclaims, walking over to him and enveloping him in a hug before pressing a kiss to his cheek in greeting. “It’s so good to see you again! I wish I had your number, so you could’ve told me you were coming tonight. We could’ve had dinner!”

“Hey Abby,” he grins at her despite Lauren stiffening beside them. But Abby pays her no attention, so he decides to let himself enjoy tonight and let it go too.

“Have you met the others?” she asks, glancing at Lauren who is still glued to her phone.

“Uh, no,” admits Patrick. “Lauren’s busy with something and we just got here.”

“Would you mind if I steal him away from you for a few minutes? I’ll look after him while you finish up,” Abby smiles kindly at Lauren.

Lauren doesn’t look happy about any of it, her eyes narrowing at Patrick as if accusing him of something. “Sure,” she agrees icily.

Abby drags Patrick away quickly muttering an “ouch” under her breath.

“She’s having a rough day,” Patrick tries. He doesn’t know why he bothers though; Lauren clearly is not putting much effort into getting to know these women.

Abby rolls her eyes at him. “Admirable, but don’t make excuses for shitty behaviour Patrick. You’re better than that.”

“Sorry,” Patrick says instead.

“No need to apologise for her either, Pat. Now come on, ever since I told the girls about you, they’ve _dying_ to meet you!”

Patrick looks back at Lauren, to at least try to bring her into the fold, but she’s back to her phone, glaring at it and typing away at a speed Patrick doesn’t think is even normal. He feels guilty even though he knows he shouldn’t. He’s allowed to have friends; he’s allowed to meet people… how many times had Lauren just abandoned him at a party or left him standing alone in a corner without introducing him to anyone?

The game is intense though Lauren isn’t paying too much attention. Patrick briefly wonders if she even likes watching hockey, but she’d never complained about watching games when they’d lived together so he guesses she must like it; especially given she’s dating Jonny.

They’re playing the Flames and the game is messy. Patrick isn’t used to seeing this level of malicious intent behind their checks, like the Flames are actively trying to injure the ‘Hawks. It makes Patrick worry a little, especially when Sharpy gets pulled off the ice in the second period. Despite their best efforts, the Flames are still behind a goal by the end of the second.

Abby disappears during the second intermission to check on her husband. Patrick agrees to look after Maddy with a smile. He hopes it’s nothing serious that would side-line him—he’s one of the lynchpins of the team and it’d be difficult for them to rally if he’s been injured badly.

“Just a sprain,” Abby says quietly when she returns to her seats. “What a relief! They’re keeping him off the ice for the rest of the game though. I’m sure you can imagine how well that went over.”

Patrick laughs because he does know. He remembers the hunger to be on the ice no matter the cost—he’d played until he’d damaged his wrist beyond repair.

“How’s Jonny looking?” Patrick asks. “He took a few big hits earlier.”

Abby glances at Lauren before replying, “I didn’t see him. Sorry.”

Patrick shrugs. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Abby nods in agreement. “Funny,” she comments, low enough that only Patrick will hear, “that you seem more concerned about Jonny that his fiancé.”

Patrick doesn’t reply because there’s nothing he can say to that. No matter what he’d come out with it would make Lauren looks worse. He feels his cheeks heat in embarrassment.

The third period is… brutal. Jonny goes down with minutes to spare. It looks bad, Patrick observes. Jonny can barely hold his own weight up, has to be helped off the ice. Lauren, for the first time in the whole game, actually seems concerned.

The ‘Hawks lose in OT.

\--

When Lauren hears Jonny has been taken to the hospital she turns into this total mess. She’s crying and upset, and Patrick would honestly think someone died by the way she’s carrying on. But he reasons, it must be pretty scary to have the love of your life whisked away in an ambulance before you can see him. A small part of him can’t help but wonder if it’s not Jonny she’s worried about, but the level of fame she’ll be losing if it’s a career-ending injury.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital and stay as long as you need me to, ok?”

“Thanks Peeks,” she sniffles, phone clutched tight in her hand.

It’s not far from the rink luckily, so it’s not long before Patrick is navigating the halls of an unfamiliar hospital in search of Jonny and whoever else made the trip with him.

Jonny has had his gear stripped off him by the time they find him. He looks pale and worried as he stares up at the ceiling, his left knee encased in packs of ice and gently supported by a pillow.

Lauren immediately starts crying when she sees him and rushes into the room to take his hand. Patrick watches as Jonny tries to pull her in for a hug but she pulls away instead.

“You’re all gross and sweaty, babe,” she says through her tears. “Oh god, I must look like a such a mess right now.”

Jonny waves in the direction of what Patrick assumes must be the bathroom and she scampers away, closing the door behind her.

Patrick is… very confused about the extremes of her behaviour right now.

“Patrick,” Jonny greets, noticing him standing in the doorway. “Thanks for bringing her.”

Patrick shifts from one foot to the other awkwardly. “Sure. I knew this is where she’d want to be.”

Jonny snorts and shrugs. Patrick isn’t sure what to do with that response.

“What’s the verdict?” Patrick asks, stepping into the room to look at the x-rays. “Not that you have to answer that,” he quickly rushes out because he realises he might have just been a little insensitive. The swelling is bad enough that the bone isn’t being seen clearly, but there’s no obvious signs of a major break which is always a positive sign. “Nothing looks broken at least,” Patrick murmurs to himself.

“Doesn’t look good,” Jonny sighs, going back to staring at the ceiling resolutely. “They need to do a few tests or whatever to determine the extent of the damage. It’s not the bone they’re worried about.”

_No_ , Patrick thinks as he looks more closely at the x-rays, _it’s the muscle damage they’d be worried about_. It could end his career without the right treatment. “I’m sorry. That was a really bad hit you took—it should’ve been a game misconduct.”

“Doesn’t much matter now. The damage is done.”

Patrick can’t stop himself from reaching out and squeezing Jonny’s hand in what he hopes is a comforting way. “It’ll be fine,” he reassures Jonny. Half the battle with these sorts of injuries is mental. If Jonny doesn’t believe he can heal, he likely won’t.

“What makes _you_ qualified to say that?” Jonny suddenly snaps.

“Believe it or not, sports injuries are my hobby,” Patrick replies, voice even. “I want to be a trainer one day,” he says, “or like a team’s private physio. Either, or, really. So… I know what I’m talking about. You’ll be fine.”

“Promise?” Jonny asks, shifting to quiet and vulnerable as he gently squeezes Patrick’s fingers in return.

“Yeah,” Patrick says, voice sure and confident as ignores Jonny going through emotions quickly. He’s probably more worried than Lauren is about his future in hockey. “I promise.”

Patrick backs away as soon as he hears the bathroom door swing open again. Lauren looks… perfect. Like she hasn’t been crying for the last half hour at least. It’s a little disconcerting.

“I’m going to get going,” Patrick says suddenly, as Lauren slips into the chair next to Jonny’s bed and takes his hand. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“Pat,” Jonny says when he’s halfway to the door.

Patrick turns back, tilting his head in question.

“Thank you,” Jonny says.

Patrick smiles gently at him. “No problem.”

\--

Apparently, the verdict is worse than Patrick had thought. Lauren has no ability to keep it to herself, so she ends up telling him more detail about his injury than she probably should.

Jonny is put on IR for the rest of the season. There’s no announcement about whether they think he can make it to the next season. Still, it must be hitting Jonny hard—they’ve barely started the season, they’re only just hitting the last week of November.

They’re at brunch, Tyler mostly ignoring Lauren after she’d accidently call him Tyron (Patrick honestly has no idea if she actually forgot his name or because she’s trying to give as good as she’s been getting from Tyler). Patrick’s been making an effort to see Lauren more since Jonny was injured because she’s stressed about the whole situation and she tells him she needs to get out of the house. It’s barely been a week since he’s been let out the hospital.

“He can’t do anything,” she complains, pouting. “It’s so boring just sitting around at home. I can’t wait until he can move around a bit more so we can start to go out again.”

“I’m sure he feels worse about it,” Patrick reassures her. “On top of all that frustration at the situation he probably also feels guilty for not being able to go out with you to places.”

“And the worst thing about everything is that the team organised to have some live-in trainer for Jonny to make sure he’s taken care of. Apparently, she’s like some sort of miracle worker sports trainer or whatever and she’s always around. She even cooks… well!”

Patrick laughs. “That’s kind of the definition of ‘live-in’, Lauren.”

“Well I don’t have to like it,” she hisses, stabbing at a piece of bacon on her plate.

Tyler snorts but manages to stop himself from laughing. Patrick aims a well-earned kick at his ankle and he squawks in indignation and glares at Patrick as Lauren continues her tirade.

“He pays more attention to her than to me. I walked into our gym the other day and she was like draped all over him!”

Patrick shrugs. Not much he can do about that. “You mean she was helping him stretch?”

“Whatever,” she says petulantly. “It didn’t look like stretching.”

Which Patrick translates to the trainer helping him stretch. “He’s probably just focused on getting back onto the ice,” Patrick assures her again. “Jonny isn’t the sort to mess around. He’s focused on the goal ahead.”

“Still,” she sulks. “There’s only so much retail therapy I can do to keep me entertained.”

_Jesus_ , Patrick thinks in horror, _why the hell would Jonny give her access to his money?_

“Not that I can spend all that much anyway. Jonny put limits on my card.”

Patrick can honestly say he would’ve done the same.

“That’s a real genuine surprise,” Tyler chips in. “I wonder why he’d do something like that?”

“How’s work?” she asks Patrick, opting to ignore Tyler as usual. “Is that hot guy still with you?”

“Jamie isn’t with me,” Patrick says, for what feels like the fiftieth time. “He’s Tyler’s boyfriend. And yes, they’re still together.” Tyler looks so pissed right now; it would be hilarious if it really, really wasn’t. “Work is fine—we’ve been dealing with a few interesting patients at the centre. It’s good to get something new come through every now and then.”

“Oh my god!” she exclaims suddenly, making Patrick jump. “Peeks! Why didn’t I think about this before? _You_ can be his live-in whatever! You’re all like qualified, right?”

“Three degrees,” Tyler snipes helpfully.

“What?”

“You’re like qualified to deal with Jonny’s problem. So, you do it.”

“Pretty sure that that’s Jonny’s call… possibly even the team’s call. Probably the team’s call,” Patrick says, not sure whether he should be insulted that Lauren doesn’t consider him competition despite the fact that Jonny is most likely bi. Unless she isn’t aware of that suspicion. “So… great idea,” he says, trying to placate her because his response has her looking angry. “But the team has to make those decisions because they manage his recovery.”

“You should definitely ask them,” Tyler encourages here, smiling evilly at Patrick.

Patrick kicks him beneath the table again.

\--

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tyler asks.

“Nope.”

“Why didn’t you say yes you fucking moron!” Tyler exclaims, reaching over his lunch to try and punch Patrick’s shoulder. Tyler has been hounding him about the brunch for a few days and Patrick has always managed to change the topic before today. Tyler is feeling super persistent today he guesses.

“What?” Patrick asks, leaning out of Tyler’s reach. He’s like a crazy person sometimes, honestly.

“Patrick… this is literally like your _dream_! This opportunity would be perfect for you! You’d be able to prove your skills outside the centre, in the specialisation that you really fucking want. Minus the fact that it’s the terrible two, why didn’t you say yes immediately? Fucking use that bitch like she used you.”

“I…” Patrick hesitates. “What if I can’t help him? What if I mess up and ruin his career?”

“Can you honestly tell me you wouldn’t do everything in your power to get the guy back on the ice and playing?” Tyler pushes, looking fierce. How dare Patrick doubt himself, he’s the best damn physio this centre has.

“Well… I mean. Of course. But what he needs is an experienced staff attending to him, not someone like me.”

“Bullshit,” Tyler says, picking up a cube of cheese from the side of his salad and throwing it at Patrick. “Absolute bullshit. You’re fucking good at what you do Patrick… you studied harder than anyone I know. Hell… you _still_ study which is better than I can say for the rest of us. I study when I come across something, I don’t know… you study _for fun_. Admit it, you totally have a draft treatment plan for him somewhere already.”

“So? All that means is that his case interested me, and I wanted to see how I matched up with his team of staff.”

“And?” Tyler prompts. “Is it different?”

“Yes! That’s why it’d be a bad idea. How can my ideas be different from actual experts?”

“Just because you’re new to a field doesn’t mean your ideas should be dismissed! Maybe a fresh perspective is exactly what they need! He’s been off the ice for a couple of weeks now and Lauren says things aren’t getting any better. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could fucking ruin the rest of his life!” hisses Patrick.

“You wouldn’t,” Tyler reassures him. “You definitely wouldn’t. Come on… you’re better than this. You’re Patrick fucking Kane, physio extraordinaire. Take a leap of faith—I promise you won’t regret it. Please, if Lauren gets you this gig, take it!”

Patrick sighs. He guesses, if Lauren somehow manages to convince Jonny and the team to him a go, he shouldn’t turn it down. “Fine.”

“Just promise me you’ll remember us little people after you become the NHL’s like hottest fucking commodity, ok?”

“Whatever,” Patrick mumbles, grinning. “Fame won’t change me!” he says jokingly.

Tyler sighs, shaking his head dramatically. “That’s what they all say. I want free tickets for life if you get this job and kick ass.”

“I don’t think that that’s a thing I could make happen.”

“See!” Tyler exclaims exaggeratedly. “Already forgetting the little people!”

\--

Two weeks later Patrick has taken a leave of absence from his job and is moving his stuff into one of the large guest bedrooms in Jonny and Lauren’s house. Luckily it isn’t the one Lauren was thinking about turning into a nursery because that would’ve been super uncomfortable.

“Jonny,” Patrick says sharply when he sees him sitting on the couch mid-video game. “Your knee is supposed to be elevated.”

“Huh?”

Patrick rolls his eyes and heads into the kitchen to get a fresh icepack. “Come on,” he says to Jonny as he come back into the lounge. “Give me your leg.”

Jonny winces as he lifts his leg high enough for Patrick to gently shove a pillow underneath his knee. Patrick lays the icepack over his knee carefully, not wanting to hurt him. “How’s the pain?”

“Fine,” Jonny says absently.

Patrick looks up, meeting Jonny’s eyes. Jonny just stares at him for a few moments, as if he’s trying to figure something out and Patrick is the answer. It’s an intensity that makes Patrick back away and stand up straight as he clears his throat.

“Thanks for doing this, you know,” Jonny says, suddenly serious. “I know Lauren didn’t like Sophie, so I really appreciate you taking time off your job to do this.”

Patrick shrugs, willing his blush to stop. “It’s not like you aren’t paying me,” Patrick mutters. “And I’m happy to help.”

Jonny smiles, nodding. “True, I guess. But still… it means a lot that you made the effort.”

“You’re welcome,” Patrick says with a shy smile. “Make sure to keep that leg elevated and call out if you need more ice or anything. I’m just going to be in the kitchen, ok?”

\--

Things aren’t going well in the Lauren-Jonny household, Patrick realises a week later. He’s locked away in his bedroom, back against the door and sitting cross-legged while he eats ice-cream out of the tub and shamelessly listens in on the raging argument Lauren and Jonny are having with each other. Tyler would be sitting with a bowl of popcorn and a gleeful smile on his face if he were here. He revels in other people’s misery, especially when he doesn’t like them all that much.

Jonny doesn’t sound very much like himself. He sounds exhausted if Patrick’s being honest. But Lauren… she sounds like she’s just getting started.

He grimaces around his spoon as Lauren hurls something particularly hurtful at Jonny. She’s not being very fair about anything. Also, it’s not great to hear that she thinks Jonny is going to wind up penniless and without hockey. He knows things look uncertain now, but he’s confident in his abilities and he knows Jonny will put in the hard work to get there, knows they both will.

He cringes as he hears what must be the front door slamming shut behind Lauren (because as much as Jonny might want to storm out and slam the door his crutches kind of make that a little difficult). Patrick waits for a few minutes in the silence. He really needs to return the ice-cream to the freezer, but he’d decided to stay hidden and avoid any awkwardness. The tub is half-melted now and if he wants to save it, he probably needs to get it back into the freezer.

He opens his door a crack, listening carefully for any signs of life. After another few moments of silence Patrick feels like it’s safe to leave his room. He tries to keep silent as he creeps into the kitchen. It’s dark but the loungeroom is still well lit and he hopes Jonny isn’t still there because he really wants to avoid everything right now and just slip quietly back into his room. Hopefully tomorrow morning will be better, after they’ve both had time to digest their argument.

“Patrick?”

Patrick startles, and turns, looking guiltily between the tub of ice-cream and the spoon and Jonny. “Jesus, Jonny… you should _not_ be able to creep up on someone while you’re on crutches.”

Despite looking drawn, the skin around his eyes and mouth tight and unhappy, he gives Patrick a small smile as he shrugs. “Is there any left or did you eat it all?”

“I’m not that bad,” Patrick replies, pushing the tub across the kitchen bench towards Jonny. “Sorry… it’s a bit melted. Sit,” he orders, “I’ll get you a spoon and some ice for your leg.”

“Thanks.”

Patrick pulls an icepack from the freezer and a spoon from the drawer, coming around the kitchen island to sit next to Jonny. He adjusts his bar stool to sit just a bit lower than Jonny’s and then gestures for his leg. Jonny just rolls his eyes after taking a bite of ice-cream but acquiesces, manoeuvring awkwardly until his knee is in Patrick’s lap.

There’s a small wince that Patrick makes note of when he presses the ice to Jonny’s knee. Better than last week, but still painful, he observes.

“So… I guess you heard all that,” Jonny comments idly, staring into the half-melted mess of ice-cream.

“Pretty hard not to,” Patrick says quietly.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Patrick immediately replies, voice firm. “This is your home.”

“You know why you’re here?” Jonny asks him suddenly.

Patrick shrugs, because he’s both uncomfortable with the weight of Jonny’s focus zeroed in on him and also because he’d just assumed he was here because of Lauren.

“You’re the only one that’s never questioned whether I’ll get back on the ice.”

They settle into an awkward silence for a few minutes because Patrick doesn’t know how to respond to that. How can he convey that Jonny is just too _good_ not to make it back to the ice?

“Do you really think I’ll be playing this time next year?” asks Jonny, voice uncertain.

Patrick, for once, is angry that Lauren has made him doubt himself so badly, to bring him to _this_. “I promised, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Jonny agrees, “you did.”

“Well then… not much else to say is there?”

Jonny’s expression is a mix of relief and gratitude and hope and Patrick wants nothing more than to comfort him in this moment, like Lauren should be. But that’s not his role in all this, he keeps having to remind himself. He’s here to get the job done and prove his worth so he can maybe, one day, move into hockey as a specialty.

“We’re going to do this, Jonny. It’ll be hard work, and you’ll probably hate me by the end of it,” Patrick says, “but you’ll be back on the ice.”

“Are you even allowed to make those kinds of promises?”

“Only when they’re true,” Patrick says smartly with a smile.

Patrick is glad when it startles a laugh out of Jonny.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Patrick replies, ignoring how his hand is curling around Jonny’s calf.

\--

It’s not easy, and Jonny can be an asshole when he’s in pain, but they’re making progress and Patrick is confident that the outcome will always end with Jonny back on the ice. Maybe not just yet, but he wants to try and get Jonny back to skating. At the very least it’ll appease Jonny and help him focus on his recovery rather than the million and one issues that Lauren keeps on creating.

It’s not the best situation for Patrick to be in either—he spends most of his time tucked away in the gym or his room, well away from the ongoing drama that is Lauren and Jonny’s relationship. To make matters worse… Patrick isn’t blind. He appreciates Jonny’s body both as a professional and also because the guy is literally a walking wet dream.

He’s always been firm with his boundaries when it comes to his patients, but he’s struggling this time because he’s constantly around Jonny and the connection had been personal before it became professional. Patrick doesn’t think he imagined the attraction when they’d first met either, he thinks it was genuine, so there’s a part of him that lingers on that too and sometimes he’ll think he caught Jonny staring a little too openly, or a little too long (he’s not sure Jonny even realises he does it). Or there’s a soft touch to the small of his back, or Jonny tucking an errant curl behind Patrick’s ear. It’s confusing is what it really is.

He shakes himself free of his wallowing and his worries, stepping out of his room to get breakfast and coffee started (because Jonny is a dick if he’s not fed and watered before they start). It’s eerily quiet—usually Lauren is around and there’s at least some kind of indication that other people inhabit this space. He frowns, glances back at the clock and then his watch just to make sure, but, no, he’s not awake earlier than usual.

He goes about making coffee anyway, because even if no one else is around, he sure as hell needs to drink half a pot. He’d stayed up late last night studying Jonny’s most recent x-rays and scans. The muscle damage is showing signs of repair, but Patrick had wanted to look through a few of his books again to see if there wasn’t something he was missing that could help more, or techniques that would be less painful.

He fills a mug of coffee and wonders off in the direction of the master bedroom because Jonny needs to get up if they’re going to make it to their session at the rink. Jonny has a private gym that does the job perfectly well here, but Patrick insists on them training around his teammates at least once a week. Jonny hadn’t been happy at first, he guesses it has something to do with not wanting to appear weak in front of his team, but Jonny had warmed up to it when the guys had taken to coming in to either train with them or sit on the side-lines and gossip (honestly, Patrick has come to the conclusion that hockey players gossip more than his sisters).

“Jonny?” he calls, knocking on the door. There’s no reply. “I have coffee for you,” he tries bribing, knocking again. He frowns at the lack of response.

“I’m coming in,” Patrick warns, “so everyone better be dressed.”

Jonny is curled up beneath the covers, alone. The room is pitch black; the curtains still closed. Patrick sighs, putting the coffee on the table on Jonny’s side of the bed before he pulls the curtains open to let light spill into the room.

“Jonny?” he asks, “are you feeling ok?”

The lump in the middle of the bed moves, and it’s only then that Patrick notices that Lauren’s side of the room is empty. All those small touches around the room that had let him know they shared this space, were gone. What the fuck?

“Get the fuck out of my house,” Jonny eventually rasps, popping out from beneath the covers long enough to throw a small box and a letter at Patrick. “You’re fired.”

Patrick frowns, picking up the box that fell well short of him. He opens it and immediately wants to scream… Lauren is gone, the ridiculous diamond engagement ring sitting in his hands as evidence. _What the fuck? What the actual fuck? What was she thinking?_

His gaze flicks to the piece of card Jonny threw as well—the scrawled message is devastating in its simplicity. _Sorry_ , she’d written—and that was it, she honestly thought that was enough? They had been planning their wedding for fucks sake!

“Get out!” Jonny yells at him.

“Fine,” Patrick replies harshly. “But it’s not because you’re telling me to. I’ll be back in the afternoon.”


	3. Chapter 3

The only place Lauren has left to go at this point is one of her puck bunny friends or back to Patrick’s place. He’ll bet anything she’s gone back to his place though.

He knows he’s right when he gets home, the front door unlocked.

“Lauren!” he yells, stomping up the stairs to the room she usually occupies when she’s here. “Lauren!”

She’s ignoring him, he realises when he sees her. She’s in front of the mirror, hairs in curlers and another one of her ridiculous dresses on while she’s carefully applying mascara.

“Lauren!” he snaps, because fuck it, he’s _angry_. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I don’t want to be chained to a loser for the rest of my life,” she snaps back at him. “He’s nothing without hockey. What am I going to do? Just be his housewife? No one has even thought about how this would affect me! I had plans!”

“Are you shitting me right now? I fucking took a leave of absence from my job as a favour for you! And you do this? You’ve jeopardised my whole fucking career because you want to be, what? Rich and famous? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I want to be someone!” she yells at him, eventually turning to face him instead of applying her makeup in the mirror. “Is that so wrong?”

Patrick scrubs his hands over his face and through his hair, letting out an angry huff. “You’re… fucking unbelievable. I’m not getting through to you at all. You’ve got issues.”

“Fuck you, Patrick! At least I’m not as pathetic as you! You think I don’t know that you want him? You think I haven’t seen the way you look at him? How you’ve been pining after him since the beginning? As if he’d ever look at you! You’re _nothing_.”

Patrick flinches back, as if he’s been physically struck. That wasn’t fair, she wasn’t being fair to him or to Jonny. “You need to get yourself the hell out of my house,” he says, suddenly quiet. “I’m going to come back here tonight and if you’re still here, I’m going to call the cops. So, pack your shit, and get the fuck out.”

She quickly realises her mistake, deflating visibly. “But… I have nowhere else to go, Patrick. You can’t just kick me out!”

“Yeah,” Patrick says firmly, ignoring the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. “I can. Get out, you’re not welcome here anymore.”

“I didn’t mean it Patrick!” she tries.

“Don’t patronise me,” he replies, voice shaky. “You meant every fucking word.”

She rolls her eyes and sighs, giving up on the act. “Whatever.”

“I mean it, Lauren. You’d better have cleared out by the time I get back.”

\--

When he gets back to Jonny’s house, he has three missed calls from Sharpy and a dozen messages from concerned teammates wondering where the hell the Kane and Toews show is this morning. Patrick doesn’t have the energy to deal with any of them right now, but he thinks that maybe Jonny will find some measure of comfort in his friends, so he returns Sharpy’s call.

“Kaner!” Sharpy greets. “What’s up? Where are you guys? Is something wrong?”

He wants to cry, but it’s not him that’s been hurt by this whole mess. Jonny is the priority—for now he can push away his own feelings, his own hurt, and deal with it later, when he’s no longer working for the Blackhawks and nowhere near Jonny.

“Lauren bailed,” he says softly. “I don’t know what to say to him to make it better.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sharpy hisses. “Fuck it, give me twenty. I’ll be there.”

“Bring one of the trainers, will you? Jonny fired me so someone needs to be here to continue his treatment.”

Sharpy is quiet for long enough that Patrick thinks he might have shoved his phone in his bag without hanging up. “Patrick…”

“It’s fine,” Patrick replies, “really. If I were him, I would’ve done the same. I just can’t, in good conscience, leave him without handing over my treatment plans and notes and ensuring continuation of his care.”

_Keep it clinical, free of emotion_ , he tells himself. _Your priority is your patient_.

“Just… I’ll be there in twenty, don’t let Jonny be a dick to you.”

Patrick takes a minute to scream into his pillow after the phone call before he takes a few deep breaths and just… lets it go. He doesn’t have much time, so he focuses on gathering his treatment notes and making some additional notes in the file about the changes he was thinking about making.

It takes him long enough that he hasn’t even started packing his own things when Sharpy knocks on the door. Sharpy doesn’t even greet him, just pulls him into a hug as soon as he steps inside.

“Are you doing ok?” he asks after a minute.

Patrick pulls away and shakes his head, waving it off. “I’m fine!”

“You don’t look ok, just in case you were wondering.”

“Thanks?”

“How’s the captain?”

“He hasn’t left his room,” Patrick shrugs, leading him into the kitchen. “I should make him something to eat, he missed breakfast.”

“Sit down,” Sharpy orders. “I’ll do it.”

“I need to pack my stuff.”

“No deal, Kaner. The brass said they’d call you later and give you the low down, but for now you’re stuck here with Jonny.”

“Did you tell the rest of the team?”

“Not yet,” he replies, pulling an assortment of things out the fridge. “Duncs and Seabs know. They’ll be around a bit later or tomorrow. Also, I called his mom.”

Patrick groans into his hands. Andree… she’ll probably hate him just as much she hates Lauren now.

“Did you know… that she was going to leave?”

“ _No_!” exclaims Patrick. “I had no idea! How can you even ask me that?”

Sharpy shoots him a look before replying. “She’s like your family, Pat. It’s not a leap to think you might have known.”

“Well… I didn’t. She was just _gone_ when I woke up this morning. I can’t believe she’d do this to him!”

“And to you,” Sharpy tells him gently. “Not that the Blackhawks are going to fire you, even if Jonny wants you gone. You’re kind of a big deal in the office—they’ve been really impressed by your progress with Jonny.”

“It’s Jonny that does the hard work,” Patrick dismisses the compliment easily. “He’ll recover more quickly if he has a trainer he likes.”

“He likes you even if he’s not showing it all that well right now. Also, you really need to learn how to take a compliment.”

“Can you stay for a little while tonight?” Patrick asks. “I need to check something at my place.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Sharpy.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Andree will be here tomorrow.”

Lauren has, thankfully, cleared out when he checks his place that night, keys sitting on the empty bed. She’s left a lot her shit lying around though, stuff he guesses she couldn’t fit into her bags or she couldn’t be bothered taking with her. He sighs, going in search of some large garbage bags. It takes him a couple of hours, but by the time he’s done the room is empty and Patrick has tricked himself into feeling better about losing someone he’d though was a friend.

\--

Andree is… possibly some pretty decent competition for his own mother, actually. Intimidating, way too observant and an all-around ball breaker.

“Did you know?” she greets him, not beating around the bush at all.

“No, I swear. I had no idea she was even thinking about it!”

She tuts at him, shaking her head. “Your face is an open book, child. Even if I wanted to be angry, I can tell she’s hurt you too, although I’m sure you haven’t told anyone exactly what she did that hurts so much. It’s more than this, yes?”

“ _No_ ,” Patrick denies vehemently, not meeting her eyes. “Jonny needs you. I’ll make some tea.”

“I’ll let you get away with trying to distract me because I _do_ need to go deal with Jon. But, Patrick, we’ll have words later.”

So, Patrick makes a really solid (and successful) effort at avoiding her by hiding in his room like a child.

\--

Patrick is starting to get worried. It’s the start of week two of what he likes to refer as ‘post-Lauren’ and Jonny still hasn’t left his room. They’re at a fairly critical point in his treatment, they can’t afford to just _stop_ , they need to push through.

Patrick knocks on his door every morning, afternoon and evening and Jonny never responds. He leaves trays of food at the door, because he has to make sure if Jonny isn’t exercising, he’s at least eating well. He finds himself worrying whenever he finds a meal untouched. Admittedly, its not often, but skipping meals isn’t a good sign.

“I don’t know what to do,” he laments to Andree that night. They’re sitting next to each other on the couch, watching the news with little interest because they’re both distracted by Jonny becoming a hermit. “Can’t you do or say something to get him to leave the house? Please?”

“Don’t beg, it’s not attractive,” she tuts at him, patting his knee softly. “This is something you need to do, I think. If not for yourself, then for Jon as well.”

Patrick has a vague concern that she’s trying to play match maker, but he shakes it off as soon as it floats into his mind because that’s a ludicrous through and is clearly just Patrick projecting.

“You’ll think of something, I have faith in you.”

“Well,” Patrick mutters sourly, “maybe you shouldn’t.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds before Andree turns to hit him.

“Ow!” he exclaims, clutching his arm because that was actually a surprisingly hard hit from such a small woman. “What the hell was that for?!”

“Get your shit together, Patrick, and get my son back on the ice.”

Patrick hunches into a ball, trying to move away further away from her on the couch. Andree is _scary_ (but also kind of cool).

\--

Jonny is still wallowing, and Patrick has… just fucking had enough of his drama. He’s a professional hockey player, damnit—at least if he decides to just stop playing, he’s still financially stable. Patrick on the other hand? Patrick’s future and career are potentially screwed all because of Lauren. If anyone should be wallowing, it should be Patrick.

He takes a deep breath, thinking through what he’s about to do as he looks at the bucket of ice he’s holding. Hopefully Jonny doesn’t like… punch him or anything. This plan only works if he’s alive and well and able to get Jonny up.

“Jonny,” Patrick calls through the closed door, knocking gently and hoping for the best. _Please let him be miraculously up and ready to get back into training_ , he prays. “Jonny?”

Fuck it. Nothing can be worse than what’s currently happening.

Patrick shoves the door open, looking around Jonny’s room in disgust. It’s an absolute mess—water bottles strewn all over the place and clothes on the floor. Patrick had honestly thought Andree wouldn’t let him live like this, but maybe she was hoping the smell would get bad enough for him to drag himself out of his bed for a shower and fresh sheets at least. He’s probably doing the sheet a favour by getting Jonny up long enough for Andree to run in and change them ( _if_ Jonny gets up).

He momentarily places his bucket of ice and water to the side and pulls the black-out curtains open, letting the winter sun stream in. Jonny groans in protest and curls himself into a small ball.

“Go away,” he mutters sullenly.

Patrick doesn’t even bother providing any warning, just yanks the covers off (please god don’t let Jonny be naked) and tips half the bucket over Jonny.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Jonny roars, sitting up and trying murder Patrick with his eyes.

_No punches_ , Patrick thinks, _that’s a good sign_.

“Get the fuck up,” Patrick orders, voice filled with more confidence than he feels. “You’re coming with me.”

“Fuck off,” Jonny spits out, glaring at Patrick as he tries to reach for the covers again.

Patrick tips the bucket again, letting some more icy water splash out his bucket and over Jonny.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you psycho!” Johnny exclaims, now trying to move away from Patrick instead of trying to reach for the covers.

“Get up. Meet me at the front door in 20.”

Jonny’s glare would be more worrisome if he didn’t look like a drowned cat. When he doesn’t make any move to get up, Patrick threateningly holds up his bucket and quirks an eyebrow at Jonny.

Jonny growls at him, but he stands anyway, and Patrick knows he’s won this battle. It makes him feel more pleased than it probably should.

“Do you mind?” Jonny hisses at him, pointing at the door. “I have to get dressed.”

“What you need is a shower,” Patrick corrects him. “I can smell you from here.”

“Fuck you. What are you, my mother?”

“No. But I can go get her if you think she’ll be nicer than me?” Patrick says smartly. There’s no way in hell Jonny’s going to make him get Andree. For all intents and purposes Patrick is definitely the lesser evil in this situation.

“Fine. Leave so I can shower and get dressed.”

Patrick can tell that Jonny _really_ struggles with restraining himself with that sentence. He shoots him an obviously fake smile and walks out of Jonny’s room, not bothering to close the door on his way out. _Asshole_.

Patrick is waiting by the front door, beanie pulled on carelessly, so his blonde curls are poking out inconveniently. He’s dressed for the weather because, despite growing up in Buffalo, he’s not made for the cold and he’s constantly freezing his ass off all through the colder months.

Jonny snorts out what Patrick thinks might be a very rusty attempt at a laugh when he sees Patrick. He looks tired and drawn despite not leaving his bed for over a week.

“It’s not even that cold,” Jonny chirps pathetically.

At least he’s trying, Patrick thinks. “Shut up. Are you ready?”

Jonny shrugs on a thick wool coat over his t-shirt because the man is a freak. Does he not feel the cold? Does he not realise there’s _snow_ outside?

“You sure that’s going to be enough there, Rambo?”

Jonny looks very confused at the chirp and looks down at himself and then back at Patrick. “I’m Canadian.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything? I’m from Buffalo and I’m still cold!”

“Maybe there’s just something wrong with you?”

“Oh… fuck off,” Patrick replies before pulling open the door. “Come on then.”

Jonny follows him out of the house, turning the collar of his coat up and taking a deep breath. It’s cold… cold enough that Jonny’s not sure how much time has passed since… since then. How long has Patrick been looking after him? How long has his mother been in Chicago looking after the both of them? Has he missed Christmas?

Patrick leads him to… Jonny’s not even sure he can justify calling it a car. It’s old, beat up and Patrick has to yank at the door a few times before it pops open successfully with a screech.

“Sorry—she doesn’t like the cold weather,” Patrick says, a small and genuine smile curling his lips. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are already rosy from the cold and Jonny is momentary struck by just how beautiful Patrick is.

He shakes his head, clearing his head of any observations about his very male trainer. “I’m not getting in that death trap. My leg is already fucked, I don’t have a death wish.”

Patrick’s expression shifts immediately. He looks like he is so done with Jonny’s shit and in any other circumstance Jonny thinks he might actually laugh. Instead, Jonny tilts his head, expression innocent as he continues to stand in the driveway.

“I know where you live,” Patrick delivers deadpan. “Unless you want to be woken up by an ice-bath every morning for the foreseeable future you’ll get in the damn car.”

_Yeah, ok_ , Jonny thinks. He’s got a strong argument there. His face scrunches up in disgust as he steps gingerly around Patrick and slides into the car.

“Didn’t I fire you?” Jonny asks as Patrick pulls out of the driveway.

“Lucky for you the team is my employer, so you’re stuck with me,” Patrick replies, grumpy. “Put your fucking seatbelt on or we’re not going anywhere.”

Jonny wisely doesn’t argue, just fights with the seatbelt for a moment before it comes loose, and he can click it into place.

“Where are we going?”

“Aren’t you just full of questions today?” Patrick chirps, not answering Jonny’s question.

“Where are we going?” Jonny asks again, poking Patrick’s shoulder.

“You’re like a child! You’ll see when we get there.”

“Says the guy that dumped a bucket of ice water on me this morning. My bed better be dry by the time we get back.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “You’re a fucking drama queen, do you know that? You have like three other beds you can sleep in.”

“What’s the deal with this piece of shit anyway?” Jonny asks, leaning forward to try and figure out the radio. The heating clearly doesn’t work but he hopes the radio still has some life in it at least.

Patrick slaps his hand away with a small scowl. “Don’t mess with the radio,” he reprimands. “It’s… glitchy.”

“How long have you had it?”

“My grandfather gave it to me when I decided to come to Chicago to study,” Patrick replies, suddenly quiet and serious.

“A long time then… why haven’t you bought a new one? You can afford one, surely.”

Patrick glances at Jonny with a frown before focusing back on the road. For a minute Jonny doesn’t think Patrick will answer. Maybe he can’t afford one and he’s too embarrassed to admit it?

“My grandfather passed away shortly after I got here. I just… haven’t been able to let go of the car, I guess. Besides… it still has a lot of love to give.”

“Sorry,” Jonny murmurs, suddenly realising his misstep. “I didn’t mean…”

“You did,” Patrick shoots him an amused glance. “But it’s fine. I prefer the honesty over the bullshit even if it means you’re a totally snob.”

“Yeah?” Jonny asks, ignoring the insult.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” Jonny says, softly enough that Patrick almost doesn’t hear it.

\--

Jonny looks up at the rink in disgust… there’s only one letter left on the side of the building, hanging on for dear life. This is just… sad? Pathetic? Miserable? Who the hell skates here? Is anyone even allowed to skate here? He’s not sure he wants those questions answered.

“God, you really are a snob,” Patrick observes from behind him. “Just… I don’t know… try and look less like you’ve just witnessed someone throw up in the Stanley Cup? Please?”

“But I can’t skate?” Jonny asks, looking over his shoulder at Patrick.

“We’re not here to skate dumbass. Just,” Patrick gestures at the entrance in exasperation, “go inside before you slip and break your other fucking leg.”

“Are you coming?”

“Yes, princess,” Patrick snipes.

He’s getting so frustrated that Jonny’s tempted to see how far he can push the shrimp before he breaks.

“I’m following right behind you, just in case you slip or something,” Patrick says, pushing Jonny forward. “Can’t actually have you breaking the other leg you know. I’m a pretty soft landing I’ve been told.”

Jonny shoots him a smile that quickly turns into sheer terror when he feels the slip of ice under his shoe. Patrick immediately steadies him and pushes him forward again muttering a quiet “careful” at Jonny.

“MR KANE, MR KANE, MR KANE!” a voice yells as soon as they’re inside.

Jonny looks on in shock as a small body hurtles full speed towards them. For a moment he panics but the small child just darts around him and flings himself at Patrick’s legs.

“Kirby! Be careful!” a voice trails after the child. “Oh, holy shit! Pat… Mr, uh, Toews? Jonny? Captain?”

“Hey Tyler,” Patrick grins, hand resting on top of Kirby’s head. “Kirby,” he says, looking down. “You know you have to be careful, buddy. You could’ve taken out the good old captain here.”

“Mr Segs said a bad word,” Kirby says, blinking up at Patrick in adoration.

“He did,” laughs Patrick. “But we can forgive him, can’t we? And we can keep it a secret too.”

“Mr Toews,” Tyler land on eventually, nodding in his direction but making no move to approach him. “Welcome.”

Jonny isn’t sure what he did to deserve the chilly reception from ‘Tyler’ but he looks distinctly unimpressed as he looks over Jonny.

“Has practice started yet?” asks Patrick, trying to detach Kirby from around his legs.

“We’re just about to get on the ice. I thought it was your off day?” Tyler replies.

“It is. I just thought this loser might appreciate getting out the house.”

“Oh, fuck you,” replies Jonny, pulling a face.

Tyler laughs, clapping Jonny on the shoulder (a little harder than is probably necessary) as if they’re sharing a personal joke when Kirby gasps and releases Patrick to put his hands over his mouth in horror. _Shit_ , Jonny thinks, he’s a PR disaster. He just swore in front of a kid.

Patrick just grins at him, dimples coming out in full force as he pulls his beanie off and shoves it in his pocket. “You’ve got to take it easy on Jonny,” he says to Kirby, crouching down until they’re at the same level. “He’s new here and doesn’t know the rules yet, ok?”

Kirby glances up nervously at Jonny before glancing between Tyler and Patrick who both nod at him, assuring him of what, they have no idea.

“You know who this is?” Tyler asks Kirby.

Kirby rolls his eyes and lets out a very put-upon sigh. “I’m not stupid,” he replies before glaring up at Jonny. “You said a really bad word. You’re also the reason why Mr Kane hasn’t been around as much anymore.”

For a little kid he’s as sharp as a fucking knife. _Jesus_ , Jonny thinks, suddenly feeling guilty.

“Who’s your favourite player on the ‘Hawks?” Jonny blurts out, trying to save himself.

Kirby sniffs before taking Tyler’s hand and tugging him away. “Not you!” he calls over his shoulder.

Patrick is laughing so hard there are tears rolling down his cheeks. Jonny pouts because that totally wasn’t fair at all. He can’t believe he just got taken down a peg by a kid.

“Come on,” Patrick says, still trying to catch his breath as he wipes at his eyes.

Jonny follows, nervously looking around as if a whole team of Kirby’s are going to come out and attack.

Patrick pulls him into the stands, tugging at the edge of his coat. They’re seated away from the other observers which Jonny guesses must be some of the parents. Something in him settles at the familiar sights, sounds and smells. It’s not the same as the UC but Jonny closes his eyes and just breathes, and for a minute everything weighing him down just falls away.

Patrick doesn’t say anything, just goes between watching the kids on the ice and watching Jonny with a small, content smile on his face.

“What is this place?”

“Hmm?” Patrick’s focus shifts from the chaos of having twenty kids on the ice all at once to Jonny.

“What is this place?” Jonny asks, again.

“Oh! It’s… there’s a group of us that bought this place a few years ago,” Patrick says. “They wanted to shut this place down but…” Patrick shrugs, trailing off. “I know it’s not the best, but these kids can’t afford to skate otherwise. It’s pretty much run by volunteers out of the community. What little money there is comes in from donations and Tyler and I try to apply for community grants where we can. Kirby’s dad basically runs it though. Anyone who knows anything about hockey takes turns coaching the kids.”

Jonny just nods, because what more can he even say? Patrick has just humbled him in the space of like four sentences. How did he never know this about Patrick? How did he never realise how big Patrick’s heart is?

Patrick turns his attention back to the ice, letting slip a quiet laugh as one of the kids skates straight into the boards, unable to stop themselves. Jonny takes the queue and turns back to the ice as well, watching as Kirby skates over to the kid lying flat on the ice, stunned. He helps pull him to his skates unsteadily before grinning and bumping their helmets together. Jonny sometimes forgets how resilient kids are on the ice—nothing seems to phase them as they race around, ignoring half the instructions Tyler and the other coach are giving them.

“Do you want to meet some of your biggest fans?” Patrick asks a while later, breaking the silence that had settled between them. “Between you and me, Kirby is a little shit, but you actually are his favourite player.”

Jonny laughs at that admission. “Sure. Lead the way.”

Patrick shuffles them out of their seats and heads down to ice-level as the session on the ice comes to a close. He keeps close to Jonny, helping him limp his way down the steps. He hears a few gasps as they get closer to the boards. Patrick pulls him through to the benches so they can lean over and speak to the kids without going onto the ice.

“Oh my god!” he hears one of the kids say, “It’s Toews… am I dead?”

Jonny gives them all a small wave and suddenly a bundle of kids are skating at the boards and piling up and yelling questions.

A whistle cuts through the noise and Tyler yells “QUIET! ONE AT A TIME!”

“Hi…” Jonny greets awkwardly.

“Everyone,” Patrick smiles, addressing the kids looking up at them, “this is Jonny. He’s the captain of the Chicago Blackhawks. I’ve been helping him get better which is why I haven’t been around as much.”

The kids are ooh-ing and ahh-ing over this new information, all in awe that they get to speak to a real live hockey player.

“Mr Jonny! Mr Jonny! Are you better yet? My dad says the ‘Hawks have no hope in hell without you leading them.”

“Adam!” Tyler scolds. “Language.”

Kirby shrugs, “but it’s true.”

It’s adorable how Jonny’s cheeks are getting pink with embarrassment at the praise from a bunch of ten-year olds.

“I’m not better yet,” Jonny replies. “But I’m trying really hard to get back onto the ice. Mr Kane is going to make sure I can play again.”

They spend the next few minutes answering a few questions the kids have (‘do you have lots of money?’, ‘do girls like you better because you play hockey?’, ‘what’s your favourite flavour of ice-cream?’, ‘will I grow up to be as big as you?’… etc) and signing gear.

“Sorry,” Patrick apologises as they watch the last of the kids trail off the ice. “If I’d known they’d be like this I would’ve given you some warning… or just kept you in the stands.”

Jonny shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. How can he tell Patrick that this was exactly what he’d needed to knock him back into reality? “They’re great.”

“They really are.” Patrick chews on his bottom lip to keep from beaming up at Jonny. “So are you, Jonny. These kids look up to you, want to see you playing. They want to see another cup in Chicago.”

“We’d better get back to work then.”

Something in Jonny’s chest loosens as Patrick smiles widely at him and he finds himself having to stuff his hands into his pockets to stop from pressing his thumbs into Patrick’s dimples.

It’s only when they’re back home, Jonny curled up on the couch (his bed is still wet), that he realises he hasn’t thought about Lauren at all.

\--

“Jon tells me you have a team of hockey babies,” Andree interrupts Patrick.

He’s looking over his notes again, trying to see how far back they have to go following the long break Jonny took after Lauren disappeared.

“Mmm,” Patrick nods, not looking up from his research.

“Patrick.”

“Yes?”

“Hockey babies.”

“Yes?” he asks, looking up from his books to see her leaning in the doorway.

“I told you you’d think of something,” she tells him, smug. Patrick knows exactly where Jonny gets that look from now. “Now… tell me all about your hockey babies.”

\--

“Do you have to go?” Jonny asks his mother as she presses a kiss to each of his cheeks.

She gives Jonny a withering look at the question. “You’re not my only child. Besides,” she says, a mischievous smile on her face, “I’m leaving you in some very capable hands. Patrick will take of you. And that Mr Sharp too.”

Jonny nods, because she’s not wrong. But it’s just not the same as having her fuss over him.

“I like him,” she interrupts his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Jonny agrees absentmindedly, “Abby is pretty good too.”

“No, Jon. I like that Mr Kane of yours. He’s a keeper,” she sighs. “If I were but a few years younger and unmarried…” she trails off. “He’s an absolute sweetheart, I have no idea how that boy is single.”

“What?” Because Jonny has no idea what his mother is talking about and also, she is way too old to be checking out Patrick.

“Nothing, nothing,” she waves it off, as if Jonny hadn’t just heard _everything_. “I need to go otherwise I’ll miss my flight.”

Jon grumbles as he hugs her one last time, waving as the taxi leaves the curb. He wishes he could take her, but he’s still not cleared for driving himself around or helping his mother with her luggage.

\--

Jonny hasn’t missed Christmas. Which is why he finds himself in the centre of a Christmas explosion in his home after his mother leaves, because apparently Patrick is a _really big fan_.

Every time he comes out of his room there’s some new bauble or decoration hanging up. It looks like Christmas threw up in his loungeroom. His only relief is that Patrick has yet to venture into his room so Jonny can at least escape.

His knee feels stiff today, likely from the amount of time he’s been putting in at the gym. He’s not ready to see the guys yet, so they’ve been keeping to his home gym, but Patrick has had to head to a meeting with the head trainer, the last before the holiday break so he finds himself alone in the house, staring at the Christmas stockings hanging off the edge of his TV for most of the afternoon.

“Jonny?” Patrick calls as he comes in. “Look who I found looking lost at the front door.”

Jonny’s head pops up over the back of the couch (he’s lying back, knee resting on a cushion with an icepack as instructed by Patrick).

“Ahh, to live the leisured life,” Sharpy says, shaking his head as he sees Jonny. “Napping on the couch like a Beverly Hills housewife.”

“That reference makes no sense, just so you know,” Patrick tells Sharpy. “I have cookies… _Christmas_ cookies. Freshly baked too. You want some, Jonny?”

“What about me? Hello! I’m the guest here!” Sharpy whines, sitting next to Jonny but being careful not to jostle his knee too much.

“You have a strict diet, Sharp. Jonny gets some leeway because he totally blew through our session today like a champion and he didn’t bitch about the stretches afterwards.”

Jonny’s smug look is wiped off his face with a scowl when Sharpy throws a cushion at him, looking on in amusement.

“Recovery back on track then, eh?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jonny replies, because part of him is embarrassed that he’d allowed his relationship to get in the way of hockey.

Patrick’s cheeks are still red from the cold Chicago wind when he shuffles into the lounge carrying a tray piled high with cookies and mugs.

“Hot chocolate and cookies… 'tis the season and all,” smiles Patrick. “Even for you Sharpy.”

Jonny’s eyes track him as he moves around, picking up a few things off the floor and helping Jonny sit up properly before rearranging the icepack on his knee. It takes a moment, but Jonny realises that Patrick is _fussing_. It makes something warm curl in the pit of his stomach.

“Knee feeling ok?” asks Patrick, low enough that Sharpy doesn’t hear.

Jonny is too dumbstruck to reply with words, so he just nods.

“Good. I’ll leave you two to catch up, yell if you need me!”

Things are quiet for a seconds before Sharpy opens his big mouth.

“So… Kaner, eh?”

“Fuck off, we’re just friends.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything!” Sharpy replies. “Your mind went there, not mine.”

Jonny doesn’t reply and Sharpy wisely lets the topic drop, instead throwing a game controller at Jonny.

\--

Christmas is a quiet and warm affair. It’s the first time in a long time he’s not felt the stress of the festive season. Last year he’d gone back to Winnipeg sans Lauren and it had bothered him that she’d refused to come with and meet his family. He remembers his family asking questions and he’d felt terrible and guilty, like he’d done something wrong even though he hadn’t been the one to turn down the invitation.

This year… this year Patrick coaxes him into helping prepare a Christmas lunch from recipes which turns out to be a mix of Kane family recipes and, he notes with surprise, a few of the Toews family favourites as well.

When he asks about it, Patrick nods, suddenly looking a little uncertain as he replies. “I hope you don’t mind, but I got your mom to send me some recipes. I know you would’ve gone home this year if you hadn’t… you know. So, I thought this would make it feel a little less horrible to be stuck here with me.”

Jonny pulls Patrick into a hug, not letting go for a long time, until Patrick has wound his arms around him as well. “Thank you,” Jonny whispers against his soft curls. He ignores the fluttering in his stomach when Patrick hugs him a little tighter in reply.

\--

Tyler is eyeing Patrick with interest over his mug of hot chocolate. They’re in the staff room at their little ice rink (it’s more like a closet). They’re well into January and the cold weather only seems to be getting worse—honestly, he can’t wait until he can bask in the warmth of the sunshine again. Maybe he should try and convince Jamie to go on holiday somewhere tropical next year.

“You’re tits over ass for him, aren’t you?” Tyler asks, breaking the silence.

Patrick inhales some of his hot chocolate and starts cough and spluttering all over the place.

“What? No… no… maybe… but no, that would be all sorts of bad. He’s my patient.”

“Is that really the only thing from stopping you from dipping your wick?”

“Oh my God, Tyler,” he groans, pressing his face into his arms resting on the table.

Ha! He’d totally called it.

“If it makes you feel any better, Kirby thinks you’ll make awesome hockey babies. Adam seems to know a little more about the birds and the bees though, so he was a bit confused about how you’d be able to make hockey babies.”

“I can’t,” Patrick mumbles. “I really can’t. But he’s so stupidly good looking… and nice. Like, he’s a genuinely nice guy. With an ass that could crack a walnut.”

Tyler nods, patting at Patrick’s curls to offer some measure of comfort.

“So, you’re going to bang as soon as he’s back on the ice, right?”

“You… you need to shut up and stop putting Baileys in your post-coaching hot chocolates. How many have you had today, huh?” Patrick asks, sitting up and trying to change the subject.

“That… is completely beside the point.”

“No, we’re not going to _bang_ ,” Patrick spits out the word like it’s personally offending him. “Besides, who’s to say he wants me?”

“Jesus. Are you literally that fucking oblivious? Or are you just in denial?”

“What?” He remembers what Lauren had said to him before he’d kicked her out. He knows Jonny is very much out of his league. There’s no point in pining after someone he can never have.

“What do you mean ‘ _what_ ’?” Tyler shoots back. “Trust me… the guy is basically a fucking guarantee.”

“You don’t know that,” Patrick denies, nursing his mug and avoiding eye contact.

“Just because you’re blind to it doesn’t mean I am. The guy wants to mount you… all night long and in several different positions.”

“You’re disgusting,” Patrick says, blush colouring his cheeks prettily.

“No. I’m right. There’s a difference.”

“I can’t,” Patrick reiterates. “I refuse to be a rebound or… plan fucking B.”

“Patrick… come on! Lauren was anything but plan A. We both know that!”

“You can’t tell me that if you were in my position and something happened you wouldn’t always wonder.”

Tyler sighs and tips some more Baileys into both their mugs. He’s not getting through to Patrick at all. He’s still not sure where Patrick gets the idea that he’s like destined for loneliness or whatever… it’s like, he thinks he’s a hot commodity but he just can’t bridge the gap to believing other people would think so too. It’s weird and Tyler is never quite sure how to deal with it, how to manage Patrick’s view of himself or change his mind.

\--

The thing is… the thing is Jonny is more upset about not being that upset. When he’d woken up that morning without Lauren next to him, a horrible part of him has felt relief.

He loves her… had loved her… but for the first time since she walked out his door, he realises that he’s not actually _that_ upset about it. He’s angry, embarrassed, ashamed… yes. But is his heart broken? Does he feel like he can’t go on without Lauren in his life? Does he feel like he’ll never move on?

All things said and done; he’s finding himself getting over his relationship a lot more quickly than he would’ve expected from what he’d thought was an epic love to last the ages. It worries him because he’s not sure if that means he’d never loved her in the first place, or if it means there’s like… something wrong with him and he can just process his emotions that quickly. Or maybe he’s just really good at compartmentalising this shit and focusing on what needs to get done.

“Maybe your heart knows better,” his mother observes when he talks to her about it later that night on the phone.

"What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know I had my doubts, Jon. You fell in love so fast, maybe you’re falling out of love just as quickly. Or maybe your head and your heart weren’t on the same page?”

Jonny thinks on what his mother says for a while. When Patrick isn’t making him want to cry (he’s an asshole as a trainer) he’s quietly contemplative, thinking about what exactly went wrong with Lauren and why he’s upset, but not _that_ upset. Patrick is also… distracting. Jonny is barely a month out of a serious relationship and yet he finds himself watching Patrick more often than not, completely charmed by him.

Patrick is… _Patrick_. There’s just something about him, something Jonny vaguely remembers from when they’d first met, _something_ that Jonny had wanted before Lauren had blindsided him. He gets that same unsettled feeling now, like he’s missing something or like there’s an itch he just can’t scratch. It’s annoying, but when he’s distracted by watching Patrick it eases.

He’s studious and ridiculously smart. Jonny had known he was smart, of course, but Patrick is this well of knowledge about sports medicine and statistics. It’s an unexpectedly attractive quality of his and Jonny finds himself enjoying their heated debates when they’re camped out on the couch watching a game. He also has a great sense of humour and he can hold his own when Jonny’s teammates drop around unannounced. It helps, of course, that Patrick is also beautiful—handsome in a way Jonny really appreciates.

Most importantly though, is that he seems to be able to put up with Jonny’s shit and bring him down a peg or two when his head is getting too big. He has a way of de-escalating the situation, so they don’t end up screaming at each other in the way that he and Lauren used to. Sure, they yell, and argue, and have differing views about the ‘Hawks power play but it’s never been mean.

“How’re you and Kaner getting along, then?” Sharpy asks one night. It’s after the game and he knows Sharpy is probably tired despite the win, but he appreciates that Sharpy called him anyway.

He’s not sure how to answer that. How can he explain that they just… fit?

“That good, eh? I wondered how long it would take you to realise.”

“Realise what exactly?” murmurs Jonny, staring at the ceiling above his bed.

Sharpy laughs before replying, and Jonny can fucking hear the smirk even if he can’t see it. “If you’re too much of a pussy to say it loud, I’m not going to do it for you.”

“Fuck you,” Jonny scowls. “We’re friends, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Because it can’t be—how could he have overlooked Patrick back then?

“Ok, ok,” Sharpy chuckles. “ _Friends_. I’m just saying though, if my friends looked at me the way you looked at him…” he trails off.

Jonny hangs up on him. They _are_ just friends.

There’s a part of Jonny that wants him, he’s not fucking blind—but Jonny is just going to ignore that because it led him astray last time and he’s not sure he can trust himself so soon.

\--

“You sure you’re not too cold?” asks Jonny. Jonny knows Patrick gets cold easily so he’s a little worried that Patrick isn’t more layered—he’s not even wearing his usual beanie and gloves.

Patrick is on a bicycle, pedalling leisurely beside Jonny who he’s making run.

“You’re an asshole,” Jonny had said to him when he’d produced the bike and told him to start running.

“I’m fine,” Patrick replies. “I never get sick. Stop distracting me and keep jogging. How’s the knee feeling?”

“Uncomfortable,” Jonny says. “But not painful.”

Patrick nods, that’s pretty normal at this stage of recovery.

“Have you always wanted to be a physio?” asks Jonny.

Patrick shoots him a look.

“What? Entertain me… I hate running.” He doesn’t need to see Patrick to know that he’s rolled his eyes.

“You’re very high maintenance, buddy,” Patrick informs him. “No… yes. I mean—at one point I thought I’d be in the NHL like you but that all came undone when I fucked up my wrist. So, physiotherapy or sports statistics were the obvious next choices. I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do more, so I got degrees in both. By the time I finished school, I knew I wanted to be a physiotherapist.”

“Have you ever thought of being a trainer in the NHL? Like taking your whole program live and rehabbing athletes on the regular?”

“Yeah, I could see myself doing that… being around a whole bunch of hot, sweaty guys all the time,” Patrick replies cheekily.

“Not cool!” Jonny calls after Patrick as he pulls ahead with a laugh.

\--

The power is out, and Jonny is annoyed because they’d been watching a game before they’d been dropped into total darkness. Patrick takes it all in stride though, getting them blankets and finding a few candles to light so they can camp out in the loungeroom. Patrick doubts the power will be out for long given the area Jonny lives in.

“Got any playing cards or anything?” asks Patrick when he wonders back to Jonny. “Go find us something to do and I’ll make us some tea,” he orders without waiting for Jonny to answer.

“Bossy,” Jonny grumbles, but he follows Patrick’s orders and they both settle on the floor around the coffee table, blankets and pillows spread around them to stop the cold from seeping in.

“Are you single?” Jonny asks, sorting through his hand of cards and pointedly avoid Patrick’s eyes. “I mean… you never seem to go out on like dates and stuff. Are the hours too much? I can talk to someone?”

There’s an awkward moment where Jonny thinks he’s gone too far because Patrick is silent.

“Yeah, I’m single.”

“How? You’re like… the full package. How do you not have guys lining up for you?” Jonny blurts out because clearly, he’s a child with absolutely no control over his brain to mouth filter. _Jesus_.

Patrick is not at all sure how he’s supposed to take that question. Is Jonny interested? Is Jonny trying to tell him something? No, Patrick thinks, noticing how carefully Jonny is avoiding looking at him. “Yeah,” he agrees, laughing it off. “I’m the perfect _friend_ package.”

“ _No_ ,” Jonny replies, incredulous and eventually looking at Patrick.

“Yeah,” Patrick laughs at his look of disbelief. “Like every date, dude. I just end up getting friend-zoned sooner or later. Maybe I’m too nice? Who knows? But maybe it’s because I just haven’t found the right person yet.”

“Too nice? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re an asshole.”

“You only say that because I don’t let you sleep in.”

“Does it bother you? Being friends with all these people that have taken you out?”

“No,” Patrick sighs, completely contradicting his answer. “Having a plus one is like a nice bonus, but I don’t need someone to make me happy. I’m happy by myself.”

Jonny believes the second part of his answer, but he can tell that part of Patrick is a tiny bit bothered by not being successful in love. “So… who _is_ the right person?” Because he wants to know.

“I don’t know,” Patrick shrugs, putting a card on the table between them. “Someone I can’t live without… someone that can’t live without me.”

Jonny is saved from replying when the lights flicker back on and the noise of the TV interrupts them. The game they were watching is already finished, but Jonny can watch it another time.

_Someone he can’t live without_ … had Jonny felt that way about Lauren? He doesn’t think so, otherwise he’d still be wallowing in his room.

“Your room will be cold. Want to watch a movie until the place is warmed up a bit?” he asks instead. He doesn’t feel like being alone and mulling over his thoughts which seem to increasingly include Patrick.

“Only if I get to pick the movie,” Patrick says with a sneaky smile.

Which is how Jonny finds himself watching Twilight, a sleeping Patrick curled up next to him, head resting on Jonny’s shoulder. Jonny runs a hand through Patrick’s golden curls, lets himself enjoy this moment of quiet where he can look his fill and tangle his fingers in Patrick’s curls like he’s been wanting to do for days.

Patrick mumbles, shifting and pressing his face into Jonny’s shoulder with soft sigh. Jonny can’t bring himself to wake him up and get him to bed, so he just adjusts Patrick’s blanket, making sure he’s covered and warm, before relaxing back into the couch and curling an arm around Patrick’s shoulders.

\--

Patrick is warm and cosy when a stream of sunshine on his face wakes him up. He makes a sleepy sound of protest, turning his face into his pillow. His very hard pillow that smells oddly like Jonny. Patrick immediately tenses as he remembers last night, falling asleep watching Twilight. He keeps still, hoping not to wake Jonny up because the poor guy would probably be so embarrassed about waking up with Patrick attached to him. He’s pretty much on top of Jonny, head resting on his chest so he can hear his heartbeat and their legs tangled together.

Jonny’s arms are curled around him, keeping him impossibly close. Patrick suddenly wishes that this moment hadn’t been some kind of fluke, that he wasn’t frozen with the fear that Jonny would reject him. _He has every right to_ , Patrick reprimands himself, _he’s still hung up on his failed engagement, on Lauren_. How could Patrick ever even think to compete with all that?

He forces himself to relax, letting the tension flow out of him. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon, doesn’t want to wake Jonny and have him freak out over cuddling his live-in trainer slash physiotherapist. He’s dozing off when he feels Jonny wake up, carefully shifting underneath him.

His reaction isn’t what Patrick expects—Jonny’s arm tightens around him briefly before he lets go, instead opting to tug gently at Patrick’s curls to wake him up.

“Pat, babe,” he says sleepily, tugging on his curls again and letting out a yawn. “Need to get up.”

_Babe?_ Patrick decides to ignore that… clearly Jonny is way more sleep-addled than he realises. He peeks up at Jonny through his eyelashes, taking in Jonny as he tangles his fingers into Patrick’s hair.

“Hey,” Jonny smiles at him, still soft with sleep.

“Morning,” Patrick greets, blinking lazily at him. He doesn’t want this bubble to burst, doesn’t want reality to interrupt this dream-like moment.

Jonny stretches beneath him, long and languid lines of muscle pressing up into Patrick and he’s lucky he’s too distracted to pop a boner right now.

“Come on,” Jonny says, more awake. “I’ll make breakfast.”

Patrick sits up, bracing himself over Jonny and avoiding eye contact as he tries to extricate himself from Jonny’s limbs and the nest of blankets.

“Hey,” Jonny says, making Patrick meet his concerned eyes, “everything ok?”

Patrick shoves down the thought that screams ‘no’. “Of course,” he replies, smiling. “Just trying to get off you without kneeing you in the balls dude.”


	4. Chapter 4

It’s like a switch has been flipped in Jonny’s head since that night they’d spent on the couch and it’s driving Pat crazy—he’s never jerked off this much in his life and he’s tempted to go home for a few hours so he can get himself off with his largest toy shoved deep in him. But he knows Tyler will never let him hear the end of it if he does go home to take care of his sexual frustration. Honestly, he can’t wait until this is all over, so he doesn’t have to worry about getting hard at the drop of a hat (and at really inappropriate times).

Jonny is generally a pretty tactile guy, but since that night on the couch it’s gotten so much worse. Or maybe Patrick is just noticing it more now? Or maybe it’s a combination of both? It’s stupid but it feels like Jonny is constantly just in his space. For example, he’s used to having the kitchen to himself most of the time but now Jonny is there _all the time_ , bumping into him as they move around the kitchen preparing meals together.

It’s Jonny brushing his fingers across his shoulders when he says thank you to Patrick, or how Jonny’s hand is pressed into the small of his back whenever they leave the house, or how Jonny sometimes just reaches out and tugs gently on a curl to get Patrick’s attention.

It’s too close to what Patrick wants, is the real problem. And Patrick does want—when Lauren had been in the picture, he’d never allowed himself to even entertain those thoughts, just thought of Jonny as a regret. _No_ , Patrick thinks, regret wasn’t the right word… Jonny had barely been a thought that had slipped through his fingers before it could fully form. Now though? Now Jonny is _everywhere_ , in his every waking moment, in his dreams… in his fantasies. It’s almost as if Lauren leaving had made Patrick think that Jonny was actually an option.

And Patrick can’t… on top of Jonny being his patient, he can’t play second fiddle to Lauren, refuses to. He’d never be able to stop himself from wondering if he was just plan B because plan A didn’t work out. But Patrick also wonders if he shouldn’t just let himself fall into it anyway, if he shouldn’t just let himself be the rebound. Because the reality of this situation is that once Jonny is back on the ice, Patrick will be back at the rehab centre, just a passing thought to someone like Jonny.

He can’t do it to himself though, has too much pride and self-respect… and he knows how shit he is at casual, would never be able to _not_ have feelings for Jonny if he started sleeping with him. It’s a horrible dilemma. He’s damned if he does (because he has no doubt he’d fall straight into love with Jonny) and he’s damned if he doesn’t (because Patrick isn’t all that experienced when it comes to sex with other people, but he’d bet Jonny would be able to make him come).

If Tyler were here… if he knew… Patrick knows he’d tell him to just jump into it, to take a leap of faith and just enjoy the moment for what it is.

\--

“You’re making great progress,” Patrick tells Jonny excitedly. “We’re way ahead of where I thought we’d be. So, as a reward… we’re scheduling in some ice time next week. Do you want book in some time, or you want me to?” Patrick asks, carefully plating up dinner.

“No.”

“What? Jonny… you can go skating again!” Patrick replies, almost dropping Jonny’s plate as he hands it to him. He watches Jonny’s face for a moment, reads the hesitation there and the nervousness. He’s not been allowed near the ice for two months and while the ability to skate is likely second nature to him, his knee isn’t one hundred percent yet. “Oh.”

“I just… I don’t want to get their hopes up, you know. What if I can’t skate again?”

Without thinking, Patrick reaches across the table to cover Jonny’s hand with his own. “Ok. I’ll think of something else,” he promises, squeezing Jonny’s fingers before pulling away. He can understand the fear, but he knows Jonny is recovering, knows without a doubt that if things continue the way they have been that Jonny will be back on the ice in time for the playoffs (if the ‘Hawks make it that far without Jonny).

What Patrick thinks of is his small community rink. He has a set of keys, can make sure everything has been set up and, more importantly, can make sure they’re alone so Jonny doesn’t feel the pressure of succeeding. He’s still recovering, won’t be able to skate the way he usually does, not yet.

The ice is horrible compared to what Jonny is used to, but he thinks it’ll be a sufficient compromise so that Jonny can gain some of his confidence back and trust that his knee is ok.

He decides to keep it all on the down low, doesn’t bring up skating again until he’s pushing Jonny out the door, ignoring his grumpy but half-hearted complaints about how much of a shit-heap Patrick’s car is.

“ _Pat_ ,” Jonny says, voice low when they pull into the parking lot of the rink.

“Your skates are in the bag in the back,” Patrick replies. “Just you and me on the ice tonight, ok? I know it’s not the UC, but…” Patrick shrugs, trailing off.

Jonny doesn’t say anything, just takes his bag from the back of the car and follows Patrick as he unlocks the entrance and heads to a panel to flick the lights on.

Patrick tugs on Jonny’s sleeve, leading him to the benches so they can put on their skates. Jonny lets himself settle, loses himself in the familiarity of lacing up his skates just so. Patrick is, he notes with polite interest, lacing up next to him. He knows, on some level, that obviously Patrick must be able to skate if he helps run the rink and helps look after the kids, but he find himself surprised by how efficient Patrick is, as if he’s done this a thousand times over.

Patrick stands and holds out his hand to Jonny, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lush mouth. Jonny wants to kiss that mouth all too often these days.

“Come on, Jonny. You know you want to.”

Jonny wants so many things in this moment, but he knows Patrick is talking about skating. He reaches for Patrick anyway, even though he doesn’t need the help or the encouragement.

He feels unsteady as they step onto the ice. It’s got nothing to do with whether or not he can skate… he knows he can. It’s the fear that his knee isn’t going to be strong enough to go back to what he used to be.

Patrick pulls him along for a minute, letting Jonny get used to the feel of the ice beneath the blades of his skates before he gives Jonny a grin and lets go.

Jonny loses track of time as he makes lazy laps of the rink. The feeling of being back here is indescribable, like he’s coming home but so much _more_.

At some point Patrick must have stopped, because when Jonny comes back to himself, he notices him balancing on the edge of the boards, watching Jonny skate with a smile on his face, cheeks flushed from the cold of the rink.

“WOOOO!” Patrick yells, laughing as he hops back onto the ice and skates towards Jonny with his arm’s held out. “WELCOME BACK JONNY!”

Jonny accepts the hug, pulls Patrick in until he’s squeezing Patrick tightly, face pressed into his silky curls.

“Thank you.”

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” Patrick jokes, arms still tight around Jonny.

“Pat… just. Take the compliment, will you? Thank you. I’m not sure I would’ve gotten this far without you.”

When he pulls back, Patrick is looking up at him with a shocked little smile, as if he doesn’t hear compliments very often. Jonny lets his head fall forward gently, until his forehead is resting against Patrick’s, their noses bumping together.

“Thank you,” Jonny whispers again, trying to make Patrick understand.

There’s a moment when he thinks Patrick is going to press up and catch Jonny’s lips with his own, his expression so heated and pupils blown wide, but Patrick just gives him a shy smile instead and pulls away.

“I have some hot chocolate… and cake. I think Sharpy and Abby are on a mission to fatten me up,” he laments, sitting on the player benches and looking out over the ice.

The comment is so out of the blue that it takes Jonny a moment for his brain to catch up. Patrick shoves him lightly as he just laughs in reply. “You could use it,” he grins, pushing back. “Maybe they’re just trying to bulk you up.”

“I don’t think chocolate cake is useful for building muscle, Jonny,” Patrick says, sticking out his tongue at Jonny childishly.

“Whatever, Kaner. I wouldn’t be complaining if I were you… Abby is a genuine gift, even if she does make it hard to stick to a meal plan sometimes.”

“You want some?” asks Patrick. “It’s too big a slice for me to eat and I don’t want it to go to waste. Help me.”

Jonny bites his bottom lip, considering the offer. He sighs, shoulders slumping. “I really shouldn’t, but I really want to.”

Patrick pulls the container and a fork out of the bag next to him. “Come on,” he says with a playful smile. “You know you want to. Plus, this skate was unscheduled so technically you’ve already worked it off.”

Jonny can do this; he can resist the lure of chocolate cake. He lets out a small groan of despair when Patrick opens the lid and the rich smell of chocolate wafts out. “God damnit.”

“Are you sure you don’t any?” Patrick asks innocently.

“No,” Jonny pouts.

He can tell Patrick is surprised by the first bite, his eyes flutter closed for a few seconds as he’s savouring the taste and he seems lost in it if just for moment.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Patrick says, his voice husky. “This cake might be better than sex.”

_Do not, under any circumstances, pop a boner right now_ , Jonny tells himself as he watches Patrick lick the chocolate icing off the fork with enthusiasm.

“Come on,” Patrick says as he licks his lips clean of chocolate, digging in for another forkful. “You have to try this. It’d be a crime to humanity not to.”

Patrick is holding out a forkful of chocolaty goodness to Jonny, and Jonny figures if he were a good friend, he’d take the fork and go for it. But instead of doing the ‘good friend’ move he leans forward and wraps his lips around the fork, never taking his eyes off Patrick’s.

_Yeah_ , Jonny thinks, _there it is_. Patrick’s breath hitches and his pupils are blown. It’s hot as fuck but Jonny knows he can’t push this too quickly. Not just because Jonny still feels conflicted over Lauren, but he also has a feeling Patrick will run for the hills if he takes this too fast. But he’s going to hell in a hand basket because he can’t help but tease, just a little.

“You realise dark chocolate is supposed to be an aphrodisiac,” Jonny points out after taking the offered bite of the most ridiculous slice of dark chocolate cake he’s ever had. Abby really is a goddess.

The blush is instantaneous, disappearing down Patrick’s neck. Jonny is struck by the thought that he really would love to see how far down that blush goes.

“Think Abby is trying to tell me something?” Patrick eventually manages, his voice low. Shit, it’s the best diversion Patrick can manage at the moment. He takes another bite of the cake.

“Yeah,” Jonny laughs. “Definitely. You need to get laid, especially if you’re comparing cake to sex.”

His embarrassment is immediate. “Oh God,” Patrick says in horror. “ _No_. Don’t be a dick and ruin the baking for me, Jonny! Stop or I’ll never be able to enjoy her baking again.”

Jonny is still laughing. Patrick doesn’t mind so much; he likes being able to make Jonny laugh like this. As Patrick takes another bite of the best damn cake he’s ever eaten, he feels a warmth settle in his chest and he realises this might be the happiest he’s been in a long while. Sitting at the edge of an ice rink, flushed from skating, with chocolate cake and his favourite person. He wants to remember this, take in all the detail, so he has something to hold onto when all of it inevitably disappears. Because it will, Patrick thinks. He’s undeserving and complicated and once Jonny realises that he’ll disappear like everyone else has.

\--

When the team finds out he’s back on the ice, thanks to a sneaky picture Patrick takes and sends to Sharpy, they’re ecstatic. So much so that Jonny and Patrick find themselves with a house full of hockey players and support staff the next time they have a free day.

“Peeks… you have no idea how happy you make me,” Sharpy says drunkenly.

“I’m sure Abby will love hearing that,” Patrick replies, trying to get Sharpy off of him. He’s like a really big fucking octopus, all limbs wrapped around Patrick or trying to wrap around him.

“STOP TRYING TO CLIMB THE DOC!” yells Saad.

Sharpy just grins and squeezes Patrick tighter, taking an unusual level of pleasure in how pinched Jonny’s expression is getting as he watches them. Jealousy is a beautiful thing on Jonny’s face, Sharpy muses.

“I have no idea how you managed to turn this around,” Sharpy says, “but thanks.”

“It’s kind of my job?”

Sharpy gives him a look that says so much more than Patrick wants to hear. He’s not talking about the injury so much as he’s talking about how Patrick managed to pull Jonny out of whatever funk he was in post-Lauren.

“Whatever,” Patrick mumbles, rolling his eyes. He’s not going to say anything about it.

“You’re pretty special, Peeks,” Sharpy sighs, throwing an arm around Patrick’s shoulders and pressing a sloppy kiss to the top of his head. “You and the captain are going to make beautiful hockey babies.”

Patrick is trying to push him off again because Sharpy is very, very drunk and his dead weight is a bit too much to deal with (though Patrick will never admit that out loud).

“Sharpy, get off him,” Jonny interrupts.

Sharpy’s attention is immediately drawn to Jonny and he lets go of Patrick to come nose to nose with Jonny instead. He takes Jonny’s face in his hands, squishing his cheeks while muttering “so serious.”

A scuffle breaks out as Jonny tries to get Sharpy off him while Sharpy is complaining about how his captain no longer loves him. Patrick can’t help but laugh.

Jonny’s cheeks are flushed when Sharpy eventually gets distracted by something else and leaves them standing alone in the kitchen.

“Sorry about him,” Jonny says sheepishly. “He’s not usually this bad.”

“I don’t mind,” Patrick admits, it’s the kind of attention Patrick doesn’t mind. “You’ve got a great group of guys on the team, Jonny. They really care about you getting back on the ice with them.”

Jonny looks pleased at the compliment, like the team belongs to him which, Patrick guesses, it does. He can’t imagine the ‘Hawks without Jonny at the helm.

“Yeah,” Jonny agrees, a small smile gracing his lips as he looks over his team. “They’re pretty good guys.”

They stand in silence for a few moments, Patrick waiting patiently. Jonny clearly wants to say something more, opening and closing his mouth before letting out a sigh and leaning back against the counter next to Patrick. Patrick is happy to wait him out, taking a swig of beer while waiting for Jonny to find the right words for whatever’s coming next.

“She… I don’t think she liked them very much,” Jonny eventually spills.

Patrick turns to look at Jonny, but he’s resolutely staring at the tiled floor, as if looking at Patrick will ruin the confession.

“She never said anything outright… I guess it’s just a feeling I had when we were around the guys. I don’t think they liked her all that much either. How could I… how could I miss something that big?”

_Because Lauren was a master manipulator_ , Patrick wants to say, _she’d planned out everything from dating to wedding venues and baby names before she’d even met you_. But he knows that will only hurt Jonny more, and Jonny doesn’t deserve it, never deserved any of it.

Patrick can’t say anything to make that hurt go away either, so he just presses his shoulder to Jonny’s and lets him take comfort in having Patrick there, in having him understand. Patrick doesn’t protest when Jonny’s arm goes around his shoulders, pulling him closer until Patrick isn’t leaning against the kitchen counter. Instead his back is now pressed against Jonny’s chest, Patrick’s fingers curled loosely around one of Jonny’s wrists when his arms wrap around Patrick’s shoulders again. He ignores the feeling of Jonny’s head dropping forward into his curls, his warm breath tickling the back of his neck.

\--

Once Jonny is back on the ice, his recovery seems to speed up, so much so that Patrick finds himself speaking to the team’s management about when he thinks Jonny will be ready for a game. He’s carefully been folded back into team practices, but Patrick can tell Jonny is frustrated by his no-contact jersey.

His excitement is infectious when Patrick announces that the next practice will be without the kid gloves. It’s a step closer to being back on the ice with his team and a step closer to everything going back to normal.

Despite not being required to, Patrick always stays for practice and has someone record it, carefully taking note of how Jonny is skating and watching the tape as soon as he gets home to observe the differences between now and then. Jonny is a strong skater regardless of the injury, but Patrick’s attention to detail is meticulous which is why he notices that Jonny is skating like he thinks his knee will give out at any time. He’s missing opportunities on the ice because he’s paying more attention to the players around him than he is to the game, like he’s trying to avoid being hit too hard.

Patrick can’t fix that though—he knows the only way Jonny is going to shake off the last of this injury is if he plays a real game, plays against opponents that aren’t his teammates. Jonny has to come to the realisation that everything is ok again himself, otherwise he’ll never gain the last of his confidence back.

“Are you sure about this Kane?”

Patrick nods. “It’s time,” he says. “There’s nothing more I can do for Jonny now; he needs to play.”

\--

Patrick isn’t exactly sure how to take Jonny’s reaction to being put on the roster for the next home game the ‘Hawks have. He’s excited, but he’s also got this laser-like focus on getting himself into the perfect condition for it. Sharpy assures him that this is how Jonny is normally and it’s the type of behaviour that had led to his ‘captain serious’ and ‘Tazer’ nicknames, but Patrick worries anyway.

Patrick still thinks it doesn’t feel normal, and his worries are proved correct a few days before the game when Jonny insists that Patrick be down with the other staff that crowd around the player benches for the game. Management deny the request but assure Jonny that Patrick will be in one of the staff rooms and available should he find he needs him during the game.

No doubt about it, the captain is stressing about getting back on the ice and Patrick isn’t entirely sure he can fix it, but he can at least try to help assuage his fears enough that he gets a solid night of sleep before his game. So… he rents out the whole of his shitty little community rink and drags Jonny along on what he expects will be their last day together. If everything goes well, he’ll no longer be needed as Jonny’s live-in trainer.

“What are we doing here?” Jonny asks, staring at Patrick as they pull into the empty parking lot in front of the rink.

Patrick doesn’t reply until he’s got them parked by the entrance, turning to give Jonny a reassuring smile. “We’re going to play shinny. Just you and me. So, get your shit out the back.”

Patrick waves at the guy behind the desk when they walk in, but Jonny takes note of how empty the rink sounds.

“Did you rent the whole place out?”

“Of course,” Patrick replies. “Can’t have people see you get beaten by a total amateur,” he chirps.

Jonny pinches him in retaliation, laughing when Patrick jumps away from him with a hiss as they go into the changeroom. And suddenly Jonny is… distracted, nervous, apprehensive? Jonny has an affinity for not wearing much around his house, but he’s never seen Patrick without clothes on. He’s always bundled up in sweatshirts or wearing these stupid polo shirts that hug his shoulders and biceps just so—enough to make sure Jonny gets distracted sometimes.

He can’t help when his eyes dart to the other end of the room where Patrick is pulling off his clothes. Jonny wets his bottom lip as he takes in the pale skin that’s being revealed as Patrick pulls his shirt off. He really is beautiful, Jonny thinks, watching the shift of his muscles over his shoulders and back as he digs through his gear bag.

Jonny quickly looks away when Patrick’s hands go the waistband of his pants—he has to draw the line somewhere and perving on Patrick while he’s getting changed seems a little creepy even to him. It’s only then that he realises his cock is at half-mast. He is so beyond fucked because he thinks Sharpy might have had a point every time he’d chirp Jonny about Pat… Jonny kind of maybe is into his physiotherapist. He looks back down at his dick with a frown… yeah, ok he’s definitely into him. _Shit_.

“What are you waiting for?” asks Patrick, grinning at Jonny as he sits down on the bench to pull his skates on. “A written invitation?”

Jonny can feel the warmth of his blush creeping along his cheeks. “Fuck you,” he replies, pushing all his thoughts about Patrick away for the time being and getting into his gear. He needs to focus on his game, not the fact that he wants to bend his physiotherapist over the nearest surface.

Once they're all laced up, he grabs his stick and says, “ready?”

They skate out together. Jonny is still feeling like a total pervert after watching Patrick for a while in the changeroom, but he takes the opportunity to watch Patrick as they do a few laps around the ice. He’d been too distracted by his injury the last time they’d been here, and he hadn’t paid all that much attention to Patrick then. But he’s paying attention now and Patrick looks completely comfortable out there. He's a graceful skater, it's obvious he's skated a lot, obvious he still does by his near perfect form.

Jonny wants to watch him forever, but his thoughts get interrupted when Patrick drops a puck to ice and starts to skate toward him.

“You good to go?” he asks, pushing the puck around sloppily in front of Jonny.

Jonny snags it neatly, then skates towards one end of the rink. He lets loose a neat, clean wrist shot, sending the puck into the net. He throws his hands up in the air obnoxiously celebrating his goal.

“Oh, shut up,” calls Patrick. “You wouldn’t have been able to do that if I’d been prepared for it!”

Jonny shoots him a shit-eating grin, eyebrows raised in question and he hogs the puck and skates around Patrick playfully. “Jealous?”

It's totally stupid, but Patrick gets a little shiver down his spine. Jonny is in his element, displaying extreme competency at something he’s passionate about. His eyes are bright and his playfulness infectious. " _No_ ," Patrick says, darting in to retrieve the puck.

Jonny anticipates his movement though, suddenly a little more serious, a little more intense as he challenges Patrick. “Go on, then,” he says, “take it from me, if you can.”

Patrick raises his eyebrows and laughs as he slowly goes after Jonny. “Those are big words for a captain without his team,” he teases.

Jonny gives him a heated look but its softened with a small quirk of his lips, as if he can’t believe he’s getting chirped at by someone like Patrick. “Take it, Pat. Come on,” he eggs him on. “Take the puck from me.”

Patrick has to pause and swallow hard, because he needs to keep in mind that they’re just playing a game of hockey, that Jonny is his patient, his client. No matter that it feels like Jonny is propositioning him, Patrick cannot let himself have Jonny, can’t even entertain the thoughts he sometimes has when he’s frantically trying to get himself off in the shower after one of their training sessions. “If you’re sure,” he sing-songs instead, hiding his reaction to being the focus of Jonny’s attention.

Jonny is expecting it to be easier than it actually is. Patrick circles lazily until Jonny gives him an opening, darting in to quickly steal the puck. He protects the puck well, and he stickhandles around Jonny with little effort. It’s disconcertingly beautiful and Jonny can feel himself getting more and more turned on the longer Patrick is able to play keep-away. Eventually he manages to steal the puck back and score again.

“You're good,” Jonny says. “Really fucking good.”

Patrick smiles, he can’t tell if Jonny is surprised by the fact that he can provide a suitable challenge or not. “I told you I was good. Not my fault you didn’t listen.”

“Is it really so bad?” Jonny asks, tapping the wrist Patrick had mentioned he’d injured badly enough to ruin his NHL prospects.

Patrick nods. “I’ll need to ice it when we get home,” he admits. “I can’t play at this level for very long.”

“You would’ve been…” he trails off.

“Yeah,” Patrick says with a shrug. “I would’ve. But there’s no use in dwelling over the past. This is the hand I’ve been dealt and it’s not bad. Actually… all things considered it’s a pretty great fucking hand.”

“Yeah?”

Patrick smiles at Jonny, dimples pressing into the corners of it. “Yeah, Jonny.”

“Good,” he replies, clearing his throat awkwardly and bumping his shoulder against Patrick’s.

“Feeling better?” Patrick asks as they leave the ice.

“Yeah. I actually do. Thanks, Pat.”

“Anytime,” he replies, leading the way to the changerooms. “Come on, let’s get showered at home and I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

“Before game day?”

“Yes, Jonny. Hot chocolate before game day is fine. Promise. As your trainer, I know you’ve more than worked it off already.”

Jonny forces his eyes straight ahead, his back to Patrick, as they pull their clothes back on.

\--

Patrick is legitimately trying to kill him. Either that or Patrick is trying to push him to the brink of his boundaries. His curls are damp, and he looks soft and comfortable in a sweatshirt that looks to be a size or two larger than it should be.

“Dinner first, you heathen,” Jonny grumbles when he sees Patrick go for the stash of hot chocolate that is definitely not Jonny’s.

Patrick sticks his tongue out at him childishly, and Jonny literally has to stop himself from leaning forward and sucking it tongue into his own mouth.

“Sit down, grumpy,” Patrick orders, shuffling around the kitchen.

Jonny obeys, watching as Patrick starts to cook for them. He’s comfortable in Jonny’s kitchen, and for a moment Jonny can’t imagine what his life was like before this because he suddenly can’t imagine going back to living by himself, of not having the familiar sight of Patrick taking over Jonny’s kitchen as if it were his own.

Dinner is quiet, Jonny’s mind pulling him between what he thinks are actual feelings for Patrick and the game he’s playing tomorrow. He knows he should go to sleep, have an early night so he’s ready for tomorrow, but he can’t seem to shut down his thoughts.

Patrick disappears for a few minutes, reappearing with two mugs and then Jonny gets momentarily distracted by the rich smell of chocolate. He’s not sure what Patrick does when he makes it, but it’s the best damn hot chocolate he’s ever had.

“My sure-fire way to make you feel better,” Patrick says, holding out a mug for Jonny to take.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Patrick says, curling up next to Jonny instead of returning to the opposite end of the couch where he’d been for most of the night.

When they finish, Jonny has to admit he feels better, feels more relaxed and sleepy and content than he has for a long time.

“Patrick,” he murmurs.

Patrick turns from watching whatever is happening on the TV, his nose brushing Jonny’s cheek. It feels like everything is suspended in time; Patrick’s blue eyes being reflected in the dark depths of Jonny’s. Jonny’s eyes drop, following the pink of Patrick’s tongue as he wets his lips. He leans closer, wanting so much that it scares him—he can’t remember wanting Lauren like this, can’t remember feeling this slow burn pump through him. The fucking thought of a single kiss setting him on fire, making his dick start to fatten. Patrick’s nose bumps against his, his lips parting a little as if he’s about to press up and into Jonny.

They jump apart at the shrill ring of a phone and Jonny wants to curse everything and everyone in that moment because Patrick mutters an apology and disappears into the depths of the house, to his room, and leaves Jonny to answer his phone.

“What?” he hisses into the phone, shifting to relieve the pressure on his dick.

\--

_What am I doing?_ Patrick berates himself. There’s no way he read that whole ‘situation’ on the couch wrong, no way at all. Worse is that Patrick has no idea if the desire to jump Jonny is just because of their close proximity in the last few months (unlikely, Patrick has wanted to climb that man like a kid climbs monkey bars for the better part of two years now) or if there’s actually something there.

He also doesn’t know if Jonny is just going off Patrick’s (probably very unsubtle) attraction to him or if he actually means it. But he can’t, right? He knows some people can move on fast, but Patrick feels himself planting about fifty seeds of doubt when he thinks about the fact that they were _engaged_. Can Jonny really be over her or is Patrick just a passing fancy?

It’s scary to think about it, think about how Patrick would feel if he were in Lauren’s shoes and Jonny had just cut him loose without a problem, moving onto the next person. It’s like a phantom pressure on his chest when he thinks of being so… _unimportant_. But… but everyone has their own way of dealing with this kind of stuff, and some people could probably get over their fiancé leaving them in the space of three months.

God, he’s so confused about whatever it is that’s been building between them since the day he paid for Jonny’s gas. This… whatever _this_ is, isn’t important right now. What’s important is getting Jonny back to playing his best, making sure that when Patrick’s contract ends with the ‘Hawks he’s left Jonny healthy and whole again—it doesn’t mean he has to mend Jonny’s heart too.

\--

Jonny can’t keep his eyes off Patrick on game day. He finds himself constantly searching for him no matter where they are or who they’re with. Before last night Jonny had this kind of vague awareness of Patrick—he finds it difficult to describe. He knows Patrick is attractive and that Patrick, objectively, finds him attractive. But before last night, he hadn’t been aware that Patrick _wanted_ him.

Jonny is still feeling conflicted about the whole thing though. He hasn’t sorted through everything with Lauren yet and he hasn’t had the closure he thinks he needs. He’s not sure he can trust that Patrick isn’t the same as Lauren because they’d lived together, were basically siblings if what Lauren said had any truth to it. Did Patrick still talk to her? Had he laughed along with her when she’d left Jonny?

But… he knows Patrick in a way he doesn’t think he ever knew Lauren. He knows Patrick has a heart of gold—he’s kind and warm and generous but he’s also a little shit and he knows when to push Jonny and when to back off. He fits seamlessly into Jonny’s life and Jonny honestly worries about when Patrick’s contract ends because he doesn’t want to lose him.

“Nervous for tonight?” asks Patrick, standing in the doorway to Jonny’s room.

Jonny is technically supposed to be having his pre-game nap, but thoughts about Patrick and the upcoming game are tearing through his head and he can’t switch off long enough to get to sleep. He sits up and considers Patrick for a moment before replying. “No… yes? Is it weird to say both?”

Patrick shrugs, as if it’s a perfectly acceptable answer.

“I just… I’m ready, right? Not like ready to play the game, but ready to skate the way I need to?”

“I can say yes as many times as you need me to, Jon. The only problem is you need to believe it.”

Jonny sighs and flops back onto the bed. He knows that Patrick is right, but he’s not sure he can believe it yet.

“What’s going to help you sleep right now? I know you; you need your pre-game nap, or your routine is going to be thrown off. The last thing you need is to stress about are your hockey superstitions on top of everything else,” he teases gently.

Jonny doesn’t reply with words, flicking the bedding aside on the free side of the bed in invitation. He wants the warmth from last night, wants to wallow in that sleepy contentedness again. Patrick is the only person that can make that a reality though.

Patrick huffs out a laugh, but Jonny hears him come into the room, feels the mattress shift underneath him as Patrick throws himself on the bed unceremoniously.

“I know your big secret now,” Patrick says, and Jonny can’t see his face so he’s not sure exactly what Patrick is going to follow up with. “You’re basically a giant fucking teddy bear—all cuddles, all the time, eh?”

“Fuck you, go sleep in your bed,” Jonny snaps back, grumpy. He was worried Patrick was going to say something else, like ‘ _hey Jonny, I know you have giant boner for me… thanks, but no_ ’.

“Asshole,” Patrick says fondly, curling around Jonny.

Jonny… might be a little bit in love with Patrick. It’s a problem. Or… it might be a problem? Isn’t a problem? He’s not sure… one thing he does know is that he wants to woo the fuck out of him.

\--

Jonny is… not playing very well, Patrick thinks, chewing on his bottom lip as his eyes track the captain on the ice. He’s feeling the pressure because the other guys in the room with him keep looking at him as if he fucked up one of their star players, as if they think this is it for Jonny now.

_Jesus_ , Patrick winces as Jonny lines up a shot and the puck hits the post for the second time that period.

“I need to talk to him as soon as he comes off the ice,” Patrick instructs, tone broking no arguments from the staff around him. “I don’t care about the coaches or the media; I want Jonny out of the locker room and with me as soon as he comes off the ice. Is there a room ready?”

As if there wouldn’t be, Patrick thinks to himself, these guys are the definition of professional and it means they’re well prepared.

It’s a disastrous first period and Jonny’s playing has left the coaching staff frowning and making notes. The other guys on the bench are actively shifting away from him as soon as his shift changes come, as if they’re afraid of their captain. It’s enough to make Patrick want to scream because he knows this is all in Jonny’s head, whatever cut his confidence down is the problem because there is nothing wrong with Jonny’s knee anymore, there’s no medical reason why he should be playing like he thinks he’s already lost.

The coaching staff shoot Patrick a range of glares and unimpressed frowns when Patrick pulls Jonny from the line of players heading to the locker room. He glares right back before shoving Jonny into their allotted room. Patrick doesn’t bother apologising when he slams the door in the face of one of the team trainers before locking the door. He’ll probably get in trouble for that later, but his contract is up after this, so it’s not like it matters too much anyway. Jonny is more important.

Jonny’s face is a cloud of anger and frustration and Patrick admits he’s a little afraid of how Jonny is going to react to being yelled at by him. Better that he’s angry at Patrick than anything or anyone else though… that’s the only way this game is going to be turned around.

“What the fuck are you doing out there?” Patrick asks, voice raised as he shoves at Jonny, forcing him to lean back against the massage table behind him.

Jonny’s face goes tight with rage, but Patrick gets well out of arm’s reach before he can push back. Patrick guesses the only reason Jonny can’t move quick enough to hit him is because of his skates.

“You’re playing like your knee is going to give out at any second, like all it’ll take is one hit and your career will be over!” Patrick yells at him, throwing a bottle of water at him.

Jonny catches it easily, glaring icily at Patrick. “What would you know?”

“Clearly a lot more than you do, Toews! There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be playing like you were a few months ago.”

“Everyone has a bad day!”

“You don’t!” Patrick snaps back, just as quickly. “You’re one of the best players this fucking league has. Act like it, play like it!”

Jonny is quietly seething, glaring at the floor instead of Patrick.

“Jonny,” Patrick sighs, running a hand through his curls. They’re so messy already it’s not like pulling at them in frustration is going to make him look any worse.

“I know, ok?” he replies, the tension seeping out of him. “I know. That’s why…” he trails off.

“Do you trust me, Jonny?” Patrick asks, stepping toe-to-toe with him. Jonny’s a big guy normally, but all geared up and on skates Jonny is huge. It’s kind of a turn on and a distraction Patrick really doesn’t need right now.

“It’s not that I don’t-”

“Jon. Do you trust me?” Patrick interrupts him. His fingers involuntarily curl into Jonny’s jersey, over the C and he looks up at Jonny through his eyelashes, trying to gauge the response he’s going get.

“Yes.”

“Then trust that I wouldn’t put you back on the ice if I had any doubts about your recovery. I promise, Jonny. There’s nothing to you need to be worried about.”

_Except you leaving_ , Jonny thinks. But that’s an off ice worry he can stress about after the game.

“Ok.”

“Yeah?” Patrick asks. “We good or do we need to hug it out?”

Jonny shrugs, he’s not saying they _need_ to hug, but he wouldn’t say no to one.

Patrick huffs out a sigh pushing in closer to Jonny to wrap his arms around him.

Jonny pulls him in tighter for a moment before letting go when there’s a knock on the door.

“Thank you.”

Patrick gives one of those small genuine smiles that emphasis his dimples and that Jonny secretly likes to think are just for him. “Anytime, Jonny. Now go out there score me a goal so I have something to brag about to my co-workers.”

“You’re so fucking demanding,” Jonny grumbles, yanking open the door and interrupting the next round of knocking. “I’m here, I’m here… calm down.”

\--

The next two periods of hockey are nothing short of breath-taking and Patrick is kind of turned on by how fierce Jonny looks now, all the frustration from the first period gone.

He manages to score three goals in the remaining two periods and Patrick can’t help but think that all of those goals were for him, not just the first one. The Blackhawks take the game 4-1.

Patrick isn’t sure why there needs to be like some kind of special post-game press conference for the return of their captain, but there is and it means that Patrick is stuck waiting around until Jonny is done because Jonny was his ride in. The lead trainer had stopped him before he slipped into the media room, asking for Patrick to give him a call in the next few weeks after the contract was tied up. Patrick isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not, but he’s not going to let himself get too stressed about it. He helped Jonny, and that’s all he really cares about at the end of the day.

The press conference is a bit of a shit show, but Patrick guesses they must always be like this—the public gets to see all the lovely edited bits of this mess while the rest of them suffer through badly asked questions and Jonny’s grumpy face.

“What was it like getting back to playing on the ice Mr Toews?”

“Good.”

Patrick wants to groan, can see the media relations staff hanging their heads in shame—like they’d told Jonny to elaborate more and avoid his usual one-word answers.

“… ok. How about your recovery then? It was a bit touch and go for a minute there,” the same reporter observes. “How do you come back from an injury that, on many other players, would’ve meant the end of their season, or even the end of their career?”

Jonny’s eyes immediately dart to Patrick’s when he replies. “I had a great team behind me, helping me every step of the way. Patrick Kane is honestly one of the best trainers I’ve ever worked with, without him I’m not sure I’d be sitting here in front you all today.”

Patrick is shocked, because name dropping was unexpected and having a majority of the little room turn to look at where Jonny is staring is just awkward and uncomfortable. He hates being under scrutiny like this—like an any beneath a spying glass.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Patrick tells him later as they’re driving home.

Jonny side-eyes him, as if he’s unsure about whether Patrick is joking or not. “Just saying it like I see it, is all.”

“Sure,” Patrick replies, rolling his eyes. “But… thank you.”

\--

“Why would Sharpy need my car?” Patrick asks incredulously.

Jonny shrugs. “Something about all appropriate cars being in the shop and they need one big enough to transport something. I wasn’t really paying attention. My car is too small for whatever shit he’s getting up to.”

“… riiiiight,” Patrick drags out. “Totally normal for a multi-millionaire to want to bum a car off his loser pleb friend. But whatever.”

Jonny frowns, glaring up from his phone at Patrick. “You’re not a loser pleb.”

Patrick throws his head back to laugh and Jonny gets distracted by the display of pale skin. What he’d really like to do is bite a kiss into the base of his neck.

“Thanks, Jonny. You have any idea how long he’ll need it for?”

Jonny shrugs again, his mechanic says the job will take a few weeks. “A few weeks? I don’t know. You’ll definitely have it back before you go.”

“I guess. Not like I need to get around now that I have you to be my chauffer,” Patrick teases, flopping on top of Jonny.

“Get off me,” Jonny complains. He’d had the pillows just so and now Patrick has ruined it.

They’re on the couch. Jonny thinks of this couch with a lot of fondness because it currently seems to be the only place where Patrick deems it safe to touch him casually. Ever since the game Patrick has been weird, like he’s pulling away from Jonny.

Patrick doesn’t realise it yet, but there’s no way in hell Jonny’s letting him go. Whether they’re friends or whatever, Jonny doesn’t _care_ as long he has Patrick in his life—but Jonny knows he wants more from Patrick than friendship. He just needs to figure out a way to convince Patrick that he’s serious about it.


	5. Chapter 5

“You stole his car?” Sharpy asks, looking up from his phone with a frown.

They’re playing a game in Tampa and Jonny and Sharpy managed to shake the rest of the team to find lunch together. Well, Jonny concedes, Sharpy more like forced the rest of team away so he could interrogate Jonny about… well… Patrick.

“I didn’t steal it… I just said you had to borrow it so I could take it in to someone I know who’ll fix up that piece of shit. The heater doesn’t work Sharpy… it snows, and that tin can is fucking freezing! I’d know.”

“Calm your farm, Toes,” Sharpy replies. “I’m playing along, just would’ve appreciated the heads up before he messaged me asking how I’m handling the, and I quote ‘dimpled door situation’.”

“Yeah,” sighs Jonny, leaning forward until his forehead is resting on his folded arms. “Unfortunately, that won’t change. He’s sentimental about it, otherwise I would’ve just got him a new car.”

Sharpy gives him a look that’s a mix between him thinking Jonny’s crazy and what Jonny assumes would equate to hearts in his eyes.

“A new car, eh?”

“Shut up. We’re not going to talk about it.”

“Are you, per chance dear captain, trying to woo the lovely live-in trainer?”

“He’s a doctor,” Jonny replies. “Wait, is he? Are physiotherapists doctors?”

“How would I know? You’re the one that spent a useless year in college.”

“Not so useless when your career looks like it might end. I don’t know what I would’ve done if…” he trails off. He’s not sure he can finish the sentence; the fear is still too fresh.

“No point thinking about it now,” Sharpy points out. “But it’s not a bad segue into thinking about the future. You know… who you’re going to settle down with? Who you want to have adorable curly haired hockey babies with?”

“Jesus, Sharpy! I’m planning to take him on a date, ok? Happy now?” he snaps, exasperated by Sharpy’s constant pushing.

“Does he know it’s a date though? I feel like that might be something you need to, like, actually confirm.”

Jonny’s blush combined with his pinched expression tells Sharpy everything he needs to know.

“You’re fucking hopeless,” Sharpy sighs, patting Jonny on the shoulder. “Maybe tell the guy you want to date him before sticking your tongue down his throat? Wild idea, I know, but… you might want to think about it if you don’t want him to pepper spray you.”

“Speaking from experience there, Sharpy?” Jonny chirps.

“Fuck you,” he pouts. “See if I keep up your stupid lie to fancy up his car with your money.”

“It’s not about that! I Just… want to thank him for everything. He took a leave of absence from his job, Sharpy. He’s lucky they didn’t fire him for taking me on as a client.”

“Heart of gold,” Sharpy says, shaking his head. “And loyal to a fault. You’ll want to be holding onto that one.”

\--

Patrick is kind of glad when Jonny goes on his road trip. It’s only two nights, but he needs the space so he can figure out the best way to leave. His contract is up next week and after that he has to move home, make sure Tyler and Jamie haven’t sullied every room but their own since he’s been away.

Since Jonny’s comeback he’s been trying to pull away a little, put some boundaries in place so that the relationship is weighted more toward ‘professional’ than ‘personal’. Sure, Jonny has been respectful, kind of—ok, he’s been disrespecting boundaries that Patrick is totally ok with. Spooning him on the couch? Patrick likes it, loves it, wants it but it isn’t professional and he’d tried to pull away but Jonny has been resolute, curling an arm around his waist and pulling him in until it felt like there no space between them at all. So, Patrick lets Jonny have the couch—whatever Jonny wants, bar making out and sex, can happen only on the couch (not that there is or will be making out and sex).

“When are you coming hooooooooome?” Tyler whines over the phone. “Jamie can’t cook. I need you to feed me.”

Patrick can hear them bickering for a few seconds in the background before he replies. “Next week remember?”

“Are you looking forward to being free of all the drama?”

Patrick hesitates as he thinks about the answer. “Yes and no. Living with Jonny has been… unexpected,” he reveals.

“In what way?”

“It’s been so… easy. And I’ve really like getting to know him. He’s a pretty great person, you know?”

“Mmm,” Tyler agrees. “So, you want to handle his stick, ride his dick is all I’m hearing.”

“It’s not always about sex!” Patrick says, exasperated. “Is you mind always just stuck on the… the…”

“Pepperoni?”

“How do you get to pepperoni from sex?”

“I’ve just made Jamie watch _Maid in Manhattan_ dude, it’s a classic and J Lo has an ass all gay men are jealous of.”

“Jonny’s ass is better,” Patrick admits.

“Oh! Hello! Now who’s mind is stuck on the pepperoni?”

“Shut up about fucking pepperoni, man,” Patrick replies. “You’re making me feel like pizza.”

“As opposed to sex? Or pizza _and_ sex?”

Patrick groans in frustration.

“You’re not getting away from this heart to heart, Peeksy.”

“You know, I could just hang up on you,” Patrick informs him.

“You would never!” Tyler gasps, faking outrage by the mere thought. “But before you do,” he adds on quickly, “make sure to stock up on condoms and lube.”

Patrick hangs up and ignores his phone vibrating in his hand indicating that Tyler is either furiously messaging him one-word texts or he’s trying to call again. Patrick shoves his phone underneath a cushion and turns back to the game on TV.

\--

When Jonny pulls up in a new car when he gets back from the road trip, Patrick is confused. It’s not a car Patrick would think Jonny would like, but he guesses being wealthy means you can never have too many options when it comes to vehicles.

“Nice car,” Patrick comments when Jonny walks in. “New?”

“Oh, uh, not exactly,” Jonny hedges.

Patrick looks confused at his response and Jonny swallows down the fear that he’s going to be pissed about Jonny messing with his car and holds out the keys to Patrick.

“They kept the door,” Jonny says after a few moments of silence. “Please take the keys now.”

Patrick glances back and forth between the car and Jonny before Jonny finds himself with and armful of Patrick.

“You have heating now,” Jonny says, wrapping his arms tightly around Patrick because he’s not going to take this moment for granted.

“Why?”

“Because the ‘Hawks definitely don’t pay you enough,” Jonny replies, sharp. He pulls back a little to look down into Patrick’s endless blue eyes. He needs Patrick to understand. “Thank you.”

“It’s my job, Jonny. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Jonny acknowledges, thumb brushing Patrick’s cheek. “But I wanted to anyway.”

Patrick turns his head, pressing a tender kiss to Jonny’s palm before hiding his face in Jonny’s shoulder again.

“Thank you,” Patrick says carefully, voice muffled.

“You’re welcome.”

\--

“I’m taking you out to dinner tomorrow tonight,” Jonny informs him the next day.

“Ok?” Patrick is worried because he’s not sure Jonny can top the car.

“Like… a nice dinner.”

“Uh, why?” Patrick asks, confused. “We could just order in and watch a game or something like we usually do?”

_Because I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone else_. “To… say thank you,” he says instead, copping out of saying it’s a date. But it really is. A date, that is. Also, a thank you for just being… well, Patrick. But mainly a date. He can hear Sharpy laughing already.

“Right. Yes,” Patrick clears his throat. “But you already… the car?”

It’s like him leaving is the elephant in the room neither of them really wants to address but it’s happening, Jonny guesses, whether they like it or not.

Ultimately, it’s awkward is what it is, and Jonny definitely used to have so much more game than this. He’s embarrassing himself. Literally. He should’ve asked instead of demanded, but all his carefully thought out words had just disappeared as soon as he’d seen Patrick curled up on the couch with a textbook in his lap and a cup of coffee warming his hands.

“Yes,” Jonny says randomly.

Patrick presses his lips together, trying to hide his smile and not laugh at Jonny being awkward as fuck. “It’s just dinner,” Patrick eventually says, trying to reassure Jonny even though he’s not sure why Jonny would be nervous about it. They’ve had dinner plenty of times given he’s been living in Jonny’s pocket for the last few months.

_It’s not just dinner, though_. Jonny thinks this is probably going to be his only opportunity to convince Patrick to give him a shot and he really doesn’t want to fuck it up because Patrick is special.

“Be ready for 7.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Patrick sniggers, turning back to his textbook.

Jonny disappears into his room to hideout and stress in peace.

\--

Patrick looks… mouth-watering? _Yeah_ , Jonny thinks, he really does just want to… _and let’s not get distracted by thinking about peeling Patrick out of his suit before we leave_.

“You look, uh, great,” Jonny comments, stumbling over his words as his eyes rake slowly over Patrick.

Patrick shivers, it’s like he can feel Jonny tracing the lines of his body. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he replies, wetting his lips.

Jonny traces the movement of his tongue and it’s only then that Patrick thinks, _oh—is this not just dinner?_

Jonny clears his throat before he leads them out the house to the car.

“Jonny,” Patrick murmurs as they pull up to the front of the restaurant.

The tone makes Jonny feel like it’s almost an admonishment, like Patrick is telling Jonny he shouldn’t have, that he’s not worth the effort.

“Come on,” he says instead of the million and one things that are running though his head like ‘ _this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg, if you were mine I’d make sure you knew how much you mean_ ’.

They’re seated in a quiet corner of the restaurant, away from prying eyes. Jonny finds Patrick fiddling with the menu nervously charming.

“Jonny the menu doesn’t have prices.”

“Doesn’t it? How fascinating.”

“Jonny,” Patrick whines, nudging Jonny’s ankle. “I can’t pay if I don’t know how much it is.”

“You’re not,” Jonny replies, looking up from the menu and straight at Patrick. His eyes look so blue tonight. “Paying, that is. I thought I made that clear?”

Patrick must look dumbstruck for a moment because he’s not sure he remembers the last time he didn’t go halves on a restaurant bill. “Oh.”

“You can have whatever you want.”

Patrick bites his bottom lip and looks back down at the menu, then back up at Jonny. Jonny wants nothing more than to lean forward and… and Jonny can’t even string a thought together now. Being in Patrick’s presence is a potent thing.

“I hate to break it to you,” Jonny says, lips quirking into a mischievous smile, “but I can afford this place.”

It has the intended effect of breaking the tension, Patrick laughing instead of worrying over how much his meal is going set Jonny back.

“Can I have dessert too?” Patrick asks.

Because of course he would want dessert—Patrick has a borderline obsession with chocolate, will always eat it if it’s available or on the menu.

“You can have whatever you want tonight,” Jonny replies, probably a little too honest but the way Patrick’s eyes darken, blue being eaten by the black of his pupil as he reads the underlying message Jonny’s been trying to send him for weeks (clearly unsuccessfully), makes Jonny’s skin fizz with anticipation.

“Anything I want?” Patrick asks, tone suddenly serious as his fingers brush the inside of Jonny’s wrist.

“Anything,” Jonny says, hooking his ankle around Patrick’s.

\--

Dinner, for want of a better word, is foreplay. Dessert has Jonny thinking about everything but the food and what he hopes will follow.

Patrick’s cheeks are flushed, from the heat bubbling between them or from the wine, Jonny has no idea. He hopes it’s the former, hopes he gets to discover exactly how far that red blush extends down his neck.

“You’re staring again,” Patrick says around his fork, licking it clean of whatever chocolate concoction is sitting between them. Jonny hasn’t touched it, content to watch Patrick enjoy it.

“Am I?”

“Mmmm,” Patrick nods. “What’s the play here, Jonny? You’ve wined and dined me, what comes next?”

Bed, Jonny wants to say, but he’s nothing if not romantic and he knows he can’t rush Patrick into sex. He’s enjoying the build-up, the anticipation, as much as he’ll probably enjoy the reward at the end of it. He thinks Patrick feels the same.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Jonny says, smiling a secretive smile as he watches Patrick’s smile suddenly turn shy.

It’s ridiculously perfect, Patrick thinks when Jonny takes the blindfold from his eyes and the ice, his ice rink, is lit softly. There’s a small table with candles, a red rose and what must be a flask of hot chocolate. Who knew there was this side to Jonny?

Jonny clears his throat awkwardly at Patrick’s silence. “Your friend helped,” Jonny informs him. “Tyler.”

“ _Jonny_.” He’s impressed because Tyler isn’t convinced about Jonny yet and that he helped anyway means something.

“Come on,” Jonny says, pressing a hand to the small of Patrick’s back. “Skates on.”

Patrick twists his fingers into Jonny’s as they step onto the ice, a laugh bubbling out of him when music starts to softly play.

“Smooth,” Patrick teases, nudging Jonny as they make a lazy lap of the ice.

“I like to think so,” Jonny replies with a smirk.

They spend the next few minutes skating in circles, hands linked and bickering over the quality of the ice.

It’s gone quite again when Patrick squeezes Jonny’s fingers a little tighter, pulling all of Jonny’s focus onto him.

“Are you trying to _romance_ me?” Patrick asks, looking down at the ice. He’s afraid of what he’ll read in Jonny’s expression.

“What if I am?” Jonny asks, suddenly unsure. He hadn’t expected the question, hadn’t expected Patrick to put a label on what’s happening here. “Is that… would that be something you’d want?”

Patrick’s hesitance to reply makes Jonny’s body tighten and he lets go of Patrick’s hand, the sudden rejection unexpected.

“No,” Patrick says, reaching for Jonny again and curling his warm fingers around Jonny’s wrist. “No. Don’t think that. I want you; you’re not reading this wrong at all.”

“But?” Jonny prompts.

“But… are you sure? I have no idea what I’m doing here, Jon. I’m… I can’t do this just for one night. And if that’s all this is then I can’t… this… I…”

“I think,” Jonny starts, pulling Patrick close and steadying them. “I’m not sure how, but I think I’m falling in love with you a little more every day.”

“What about Lauren?” Patrick asks, expression hard. “Jonny. You can’t tell me it’s over… she… you were engaged. How can I even compete with that?”

_Yeah, ok_ , Jonny thinks, _he definitely has a point_. “I don’t know,” Jonny admits. “But Patrick, neither of us know the future. Can we just focus on the here and now? Just enjoy tonight?”

Patrick presses himself closer to Jonny, arms wrapping around him. Jonny relaxes at the feel of Patrick’s fingers curling into the hair at his nape.

“Please,” Jonny all but begs.

“Ok,” Patrick whispers.

\--

Patrick is intoxicating. They’re stood at the edge of Jonny’s bed eventually, but Jonny can’t bring himself to do much… he’s enjoying watching Patrick too much. He takes note of the way he swallows nervously, the way his breath hitches as Jonny drags his thumb over Patrick’s bottom lip, red from the constant abuse (because Patrick is always biting it). He watches the way Patrick’s eyes flutter shut when Jonny slides the back of his fingers up his neck, tilting his chin back until they make eye contact.

“You’re beautiful,” Jonny whispers against his lips. It elicits a full-body shudder in Patrick and Jonny can only think that if Patrick is this responsive, is so sensitive to _this_ , what would he be like beneath Jonny’s hands? How would he respond to Jonny’s skin pressed against his?

“Jonny,” Patrick says quietly, a prayer. “ _Jonny_.”

Jonny shifts, their lips meeting in a soft kiss, a simple press of his lips against Patrick’s. Patrick unfurls like the petals of a flower, suddenly coming alive beneath his hands and pressing up and into Jonny as he licks at the seam of Jonny’s lips.

Jonny doesn’t mind kissing but has never really understood it when people say they can get lost for hours making out on a couch with their partner, but then he’d never kissed someone like Patrick. He’s like a drug, an addiction, and Jonny can’t get enough of it, isn’t sure he ever will. He moans, low and heady as Patrick’s tongue curls around his at the same time his hands curl into Jonny’s hair, tugging until he’s where Patrick wants him.

At some point they lose their jackets and Jonny pushes him back onto the bed, sucking kisses into Patrick’s skin as it’s revealed. He bites down lightly as the base of Patrick’s neck, like he’s been wanting to do for weeks and Patrick arches up into him with a gasp, pressing them together. Jonny doesn’t move, fingers undoing the buttons of his dress shirt quickly before. He nips at his clavicle before dipping kisses down, down, down until his tongue curls around one of Patrick’s perfectly rosy nipples. He drags his thumb over the other, drinking in how responsive Patrick is.

“What do you want?”

Jonny’s voice is husky, low and wrecked in a way that makes Patrick’s legs want to fall open in invitation. “What?” Patrick asks, confused by why Jonny’s stopped. He gasps when Jonny twists one of his nipples before licking a stripe over it in apology.

“How do you want me?” Jonny asks again.

“Is that a trick question?” Patricks replies.

“Patrick,” Jonny murmurs, tongue dipping into his belly button and making Patrick squirm.

“Naked and in me,” Patrick gasps, breathless. “Please, Jonny, please.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, running his knuckles lightly over the bulge in Patrick’s pants.

“Get the fuck in me,” Patrick demands, eyes narrowing.

“Bossy,” Jonny replies, biting at his hip in reprimand but he pulls away anyway, pulling off his clothes as he goes.

Patrick let’s out an involuntarily little whimper as Jonny’s chest is revealed because the man is sculpted from fucking marble and Patrick has never been allowed to _touch_ before. He sits up, hands reaching for Jonny.

Jonny doesn’t move, stays sitting on his knees as Patrick’s fingers linger just above his skin, just short of touching. Jonny takes his wrist, pulling Patrick closer until his hand is pressed against him.

“How are you real?” Patrick whispers.

Jonny doesn’t think he was supposed to hear that. He keeps quiet under Patrick’s scrutiny, it’s slightly unnerving to have someone just _look_. Is he everything Patrick wants? When Patrick’s hand moves, his fingers tracing the lines of Jonny’s defined abs, it takes everything Jonny has to keep still and let him explore.

“This is probably a really inappropriate time to mention this, but I haven’t done this for a long time.”

Patrick is in a trance-like state, watching his fingers drag over Jonny’s rich, warm skin.

“What does that mean?” Jonny asks, coming out of his own daze.

“I haven’t done it ever?” Because it’s way too difficult to explain the one-thrust wonder guy (Tyler says it doesn’t count).

_Jesus_ , like that doesn’t just make Jonny feel something deep and possessive. How is that _not_ a turn on? To know that he’s the first one to touch Patrick in this way, that he gets to stake his claim. That he’s the one that Patrick has trusted with this.

“Really?” he asks, disbelieving as he leans forward and over Patrick.

“Mostly, yeah.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“ _No_ ,” Patrick replies vehemently, legs wrapping around Jonny’s waist. “Just,” he says, fingers curling in nervousness against Jonny’s skin, “just keep that in mind?”

“Patrick,” Jonny says, tilting his chin back until their eyes meet again. “Thank you for trusting me,” he says, reverent.

Whatever tension there was leaks out of Patrick as Jonny leans forward, drawing him into a kiss.

Jonny slows things down after his admission, giving him time to drink everything in, to give him time to tell Jonny if he doesn’t like anything. He needn’t have worried; Patrick seems to like everything Jonny does and _takes_ from Jonny as he gains confidence. By the time Jonny is fingering Patrick open, he’s breathless. Jonny can’t put it into words that would do this justice, seeing Patrick spread out over his sheets, head thrown back with a moan and cock dripping pre-come. He wants to burn this into his memory, he wants to burn it into Patrick’s too.

“Jonny, Jonny, Jonny,” Patrick sighs desperately. “Please,” he begs. “ _Please_.”

Jonny has no choice but to listen, pulling his fingers from Patrick, a self-satisfied smirk forming on his lips as he hears Patrick let out a little whine at the loss. He strokes himself a few times, taking in Patrick once more, knees dropped open and giving Jonny a view of his fluttering pink hole.

“ _Jonny_.”

Jonny obeys, rolling a condom on before coating himself in more lube than he usually would. But he wants to be careful here, make sure he doesn’t hurt Patrick.

Patrick’s hands twist into the sheets as Jonny pushes the head of his dick past the ring of tight muscle. “Shhh, baby,” Jonny says nonsensically. “Relax, breath, come on Pat. Open up for me,” he instructs, thumbs brushing over the skin of Patrick’s hips in comfort.

He slips in further as Patrick relaxes around him and Jonny is trying so hard to keep himself in check, to keep himself from just taking because Patrick is so fucking _tight_ , a warm and wet heat squeezing around him until he thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he’s saying. “Let me in, Pat, let me in.”

Jonny leans forward suddenly, pressing their foreheads together and letting their breath mingle. “ _Patrick_ ,” he sighs against his lips as he slides home, fully seated in Patrick. He pauses, waiting for Patrick to tell him when he can move. He presses a kiss to Patrick’s lips, coaxing him into a response because Patrick looks like he’s overwhelmed.

He deepens their kiss as he feels Patrick’s knees press against his sides, ankles hooking in the small of Jonny’s back. Patrick’s arms wrap around his shoulders as he presses up into Jonny, arching his back as if he’s chasing something.

“Move,” Patrick whispers. “ _Please, move_.”

And Jonny obeys. He’s not sure if he’s ever had sex like this, slow and reverent and _hot_. Patrick is so close, but Jonny wants him closer still, wants them wound so tightly around each other until there’s nothing left between them, until they become two halves of a whole, a single entity. It’s a sense of possession that Jonny’s never felt, in this moment he so desperately wants to _own_ Patrick.

He greedily swallows down Patrick’s moans as he comes, wet heat spreading between them as Jonny’s hips stutter, breaking rhythm as he follows Patrick over the edge.

\--

“Is it always like that?” Patrick asks, tucked up against Jonny, fingers still tracing over the soft ridges of Jonny’s chest and abs.

“No,” he replies, honest.

“Oh.”

Patrick’s fingers stop moving, as if Jonny has just given some major revelation. Jonny isn’t sure what to say because he’s doesn’t know what that means either, he feels just as lost and unsure as Patrick does. Is this depth of feeling even possible? Could it ever be maintained? What would happen to him if Patrick were to leave him like Lauren had?

He has a feeling it would be so much more devastating than whatever he’d felt with Lauren. It scares him.

Jonny runs a hand over the smooth skin of Patrick’s back in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. He doesn’t want to scare Patrick away, but he’s not sure he’s ready for whatever this is roiling between them. He thinks… or maybe he knows that he really needs to take this slow but he’s not sure that’s possible after tonight.

Jonny distracts himself from his thoughts by rolling them until Patrick is trapped beneath him again. They drink each other in for a few minutes, Jonny’s eyes falling shut as Patrick’s fingers trace over his lips. He turns his head, pressing a kiss into Patrick’s palm.

\--

Jonny’s head is chaos when he wakes up the next morning, Patrick’s beautifully naked and warm body pressed against his. It’s early, but so much is running through his head he knows he won’t be able to get back to sleep.

He slips out of bed, pulling the blankets over Patrick as he curls into the patch of warmth Jonny leaves behind. He should go for a run, make sure he’s loose and warm for practice in a few hours. He feels guilty about leaving; given the intensity of last night… what if Patrick assumes the worst when he wakes up alone?

He’ll make Patrick breakfast, Jonny thinks. And leave a note. Hopefully that will be enough---he just really needs to get out of the house for minute, clear his head and figure out what he’s going to do about… about all of this.

\--

Patrick stretches languidly as he wakes up, reaching absently for Jonny because he’s cold and Jonny runs so hot, he’s perfect to curl up against.

When his hand meets cold sheets, his eyes shoot open and his mind starts running a thousand miles a minute because there’s moment where he… where he…

And then he turns his head to the side, blinking at the tray sitting on the bedside table closest him. There’s a note standing up against a glass of orange juice and Patrick sits up to investigate further, fingers twisting into the bed covers to drag them with him as he moves.

_Went for a run—I’ll be back soon. Enjoy breakfast._

Patrick smiles at the note before taking a look at the tray. It’s nothing spectacular, but it’s clear Jonny put a lot of thought into it considering he wouldn’t have known when Patrick would wake up. It makes a warmth start to curl inside him, touched not only by this thoughtful gesture, but all of the thoughtful gestures from last night. The dinner, skating with Jonny afterwards…

Patrick has never been cherished in this way and it’s too much and not enough all at once. He knows they need to talk, but Patrick lets himself bask in the glow of feeling _wanted_.

When he’s finished with breakfast he gets up, pulling the sheet with him so he can wrap it around himself and pad into kitchen without getting too cold. He’s just finished putting his dishes into the dishwasher when he hears a knock on the door. He smiles to himself, it’s probably Jonny having forgotten his keys.

“Forgot your keys?” he’s asking with a smile as he pulls the front door open. The smile falls right off his face when he sees who’s standing on the other side of the door. “Lauren.”

“Patrick,” she greets warily, eyeing him up before pushing past him and into the house.

Patrick closes the door before trailing behind her as she invites herself in. He’s more than a little confused, has no idea what she’s doing here or what she could possibly want after everything that’s happened. “What are you doing here?” he asks eventually, holding the sheet tighter around him.

“I’m here to see to Jonny.”

_Ok_ , Patrick thinks to himself, _no need to panic like you’re about to_. But Patrick remembers when he’d asked Jonny about her last night, what he would do if she came back. He’d been indecisive and Patrick had accepted it because he’d thought… no, he’d hoped, that he’d at least have enough time with Jonny to erase her from his memory. Or were Patrick’s wants more selfish? Had he wanted enough time to convince Jonny he was the better option?

It doesn’t matter, Patrick realises, because she’s here now and no matter what he might have wanted he has a feeling this is going to turn ugly for one of them. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t want her to make herself at home, doesn’t feel comfortable leaving her to her own devices while waiting for Jonny to get back from his run.

It’s awkward and quiet and Patrick is getting cold, wrapped in nothing but the sheet off Jonny’s bed. God, he hopes she doesn’t realise… that’s one argument he’s just not ready to have (ever).

\--

Jonny is feeling pleased with himself after his run. He feels good and having the time and space had helped him. He shouldn’t waste time on worrying about the what-ifs around Lauren because she’s not around anymore, couldn’t even make it through supporting him through an injury. But Patrick… Patrick had never doubted. He’d been with Jonny through everything, had helped him when Lauren had disappeared. The feelings Lauren still brings up in him will disappear over time, he reasons, but Patrick won’t stick around forever waiting for him to make up his mind.

When he gets home the last thing he expects to see is Patrick, wound tight as a coil, wrapped in nothing but a bedsheet with Lauren seated across from him. Patrick’s eyes dart up to Jonny’s—he looks uncertain, worried, and Jonny can’t tell if the uncertainty is about the situation or about him. It immediately puts him off balance, makes him feel like he’s unbuoyed in the ocean during a storm.

Lauren is up as soon as she sees him, eyes watery as she approaches him, as if she’s been crying.

“Jonny,” she whimpers.

Jonny is looking between Patrick and Lauren and… and he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Lauren,” he eventually replies, quiet and considering.

Patrick can’t believe the scene unfolding in front of him. He swears she was fine just a moment ago, hadn’t noticed she was upset at all, and for a horrifying moment Patrick thinks he’s missed something. How could he not realise she was upset?

“Jonny… Jon… I. I’m so sorry,” she starts, hands reaching for him but then stopping short of touching him, hands dropping to her sides. “Will you let me explain? Please, Jon. Please just let me explain.”

_Oh_ , Patrick realises as he watches on in a mix of horror and fascination, he hasn’t missed anything at all. The pieces of the puzzle slot together in his mind quickly. She’s here because Jonny is the captain again, is playing well again. She’d bet he’d never recover but things couldn’t have been easy after Patrick and Tyler had sent her packing. She’s back to claim her prize.

And Jonny? Jonny looks lost, like he doesn’t know what decision to make, like he’s afraid of someone making him make a decision. Patrick suddenly needs to get away because he can feel the sting of rejection—he’s still not good enough.

“I’ll just… I’ll just give you guys a minute, then,” Patrick intervenes softly.

Jonny’s eyes follow him as he leaves before falling back on Lauren. She’s crying now and Jonny isn’t sure what he should be doing to make her feel better. He always panics in the face of a crying woman.

Patrick doesn’t go far, slipping around the corner and pressing himself against the wall to eavesdrop. He knows it’s wrong, but if Jonny is going to… what? Patrick wants to laugh. Dump him? Like they were even together in the first place. Patrick can feel the heat of tears pooling in his eyes because he knows what this will be… Patrick is going to be discarded, just like he has been all the times before. _Friends._

“My father left us when I was seven and then I watched my mother go only a few years later… and Jonny I just, I just had this stupid fear that you’d leave me too one day. So, I did the only thing I could to protect myself from that. I left before you could.”

“I wouldn’t have left you,” Jonny reacts.

“I know that now, Jon. When I left here, I went to get help and… and I know now that I was just being so stupid. God, Jon. I love you so much. Please tell me I have a chance!”

Patrick doesn’t let himself feel the heartbreak. He knows how this is going to end. He doesn’t bother listening to the rest of their conversation, just goes to his room as quickly as he can.

He doesn’t let himself think about anything—pulling on whatever he can find and starting to shove everything of his into a bag. He can replace the books; he doubts he’d need these ones anyway when he goes back to his job at the rehab centre next week.

He’s pulling his shoes on when the door to his bedroom opens and Jonny looks… yeah.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” Patrick spits out, tugging at his laces.

“Why?”

Patrick snorts and looks up at Jonny with ill-concealed disgust. “I think you know why.”

Jonny flounders for a moment, not sure what to say. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Well, you did.”

“I can’t just… I was going to marry her, Patrick. Please understand. We can still…” he trails off, looking torn and upset as he watches Patrick gather the last of his things.

“We can still be what?” Patrick laughs meanly. “Still be friends? Is that really what you were about to fucking go with?”

“You’re special to me Patrick,” he pleads.

And Patrick… God. Jonny can’t have both of them, not now. He can’t do this to Patrick and not expect there to be consequences.

“Yeah,” Patrick spits out, angry. “A special friend. Well, that’s not enough for me!” he yells pushing past him and into the corridor. God, he needs to get out of here like, yesterday.

“Patrick!” Jonny calls after him.

He stops but he doesn’t turn to face Jonny, doesn’t think he’d be able to leave if he did. “You can’t have both of us Jonny. It’s not fair on anyone,” he says over his shoulder before leaving.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love and support everyone! Here's the final chapter =D

Patrick is a wreck, has to pull over on the side of the road when he can’t stop crying.

He doesn’t know why he’s so upset, it’s not like they’d been together. But it does hurt, it feels like a betrayal of some kind even though it shouldn’t. He knows it shouldn’t. Maybe it’s just a culmination of things, maybe Jonny’s rejection had been the straw that eventually broke the camel’s back. Afterall, Jonny is one of many. You’d think he’d be used to being put in second place by now, but the hurt is still so fresh and Patrick is reeling because last night had been so intense and he’d thought Jonny had felt that way too.

Patrick thinks about what Jonny said on the ice, that he’d been falling in love with Patrick a little more each day. _Lies_ , Patrick thinks with a sob, _he and Lauren deserve each other_.

Maybe there was just something wrong with Patrick? Maybe he just wasn’t meant for romance and happy endings and whatever else normal people get to experience. He has his career, he has amazing friends and a wonderful family, and could it be enough for him? What is so wrong with him that no one can find it in themselves to love him back?

\--

Patrick excels at many things—one of them being his ability to put things in a box in the back of his mind and get on with life. There’s a lot of shit in that box, and occasionally he’ll open it, look at something he’d put to the side years ago and eventually process it, without the drama or the hurt or the feelings… all are dulled by the time that passes. This is just another one of those things that Patrick sets aside to deal with later.

He knows he doesn’t look ok when he pulls into his driveway and for once he’s glad that Tyler and Jamie are out at work. He just needs some time to pick up the pieces of himself and put it back together, enough so that Tyler doesn’t pry too much.

He unpacks his things quickly, throwing a few things into his laundry basket to deal with later. Right now, he needs to do something that’ll keep his mind occupied. He walks into what used to be Lauren’s room, and looks around absentmindedly. It’s exactly how she left it, and suddenly Patrick needs it to be different, to look less like her space. Methodically he drapes canvas over the furniture he thinks he’ll keep and trims the edges of the skirting with tape before going into the basement where he’d left the last of the paint.

Hours later, when Tyler and Jamie have come home, Patrick is still painting over the walls. It’s cathartic, with each stroke he covers Lauren’s powder pink walls, erasing her from the bones of his home.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Patrick says quietly, focused on the task in front of him.

Tyler has been standing in the doorway watching him work for the better part of half an hour. Patrick can tell he’s worried, that he wants to know more. But he also knows the worst thing for Patrick would be making him talk about it, so for once he lets it go.

“Ok,” Tyler agrees, coming into the room and picking up a paintbrush.

He can’t make Patrick talk about it, but he can be here for him in other ways. Jamie joins them a little while later, not saying a word.

Hours later, the first coat of paint in place and drying, Patrick curls up tightly in Tyler’s arms.

“Oh Peeksy,” Tyler sighs, patting his curls. “I’m so sorry.”

And that’s it—that’s all that’s said about it. Patrick has the best friend ever.

\--

“So, how was it?”

There’s a new intern at the rehab centre and she’s taken a liking to Patrick after finding out he’d done some work for the ‘Hawks organisation. She’s like a puppy, all happy smiles and eagerness.

“How was what?” Patrick asks, making a few notes on one of the patient charts.

“How was working with _the_ Jonathon Toews?” she asks dreamily.

Patrick imagines that if stars could appear in her eyes, they would. She’s a huge hockey fan.

“Good,” Patrick replies distractedly. “I mean, he’s a nice guy. Great employer.”

He hopes she’ll drop the subject, but it seems unlikely given they’re just about to head to their lunch break. Tyler isn’t in today, so he doesn’t have anyone to run interference for him like he usually does.

“You got to live with him, right?”

“Yep.”

“The drama!” she exclaims. “Lucky you—you got a front row seat to his fiancé leaving _and_ coming back!”

That’s not the only thing he got a front row seat to, Patrick thinks idly as they make their way to the cafeteria.

She’s quiet as they buy their lunch and find a table with a few of the others. He enjoys his colleagues a lot, they’re all nice people with a great sense of humour and a work ethic that makes Patrick feel proud of the rehab centre he works for.

They all start applauding him when he approaches the table and pulls up a chair. He grins, taking the exaggerated hollering for what it is—they all think he’s someone that can get them free tickets now, he hasn’t broken the bad news to them yet.

“All hail Patrick Kane, lord of being able to wrangle us some free hockey tickets,” one of them laughs.

Patrick pulls a face. “Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think it works like that.”

“Sure, buddy. You’re just keeping the tickets all to yourself… I get it, I get it.”

“Do you think you’re going to go back into sports? Like, use this opportunity as a jumping board?” the intern asks him.

The table goes quiet, they’re all interested in hearing the answer.

Patrick shrugs. “I mean, I guess? It was pretty fun work, really interesting actually. It’s definitely made me think that that’s the direction I want to take my career.”

“All I hear are tickets behind the bench,” one of them pipes up.

The table dissolves into laughter again and Patrick lets himself sink back into the familiarity of his colleagues. Despite enjoying his time away working with an athlete, he can admit that he missed this, missed being part of a team. He’d felt alone with Jonny—the other trainers had been busy with the team and while they’d provided him with a lot of support, it’d been the first time he’d been the one calling all the shots on a treatment plan and the first time he’d had all of his concentration focused on only a single case.

\--

“Motherfucker!” Patrick mutters as he turns around and closes the front door.

“Sorry!” yells Jamie over Tyler’s laughter.

“We spoke about this! Sex is for the bedroom only!” Patrick replies through the door, exasperated.

He waits patiently, staring at his front door until the sound of everyone getting their clothes back on is gone and Tyler tells him they’re dressed.

“Seriously, dudes, my couch!”

Tyler is still laughing and Patrick kind of wants to punch him in the face (just a little bit).

“I’m just too hot,” Tyler grins, gesturing at himself. “Jamie just can’t help himself when he’s around me.”

“Hey!” Jamie exclaims, shoving him lightly. His hair is a mess, and his shirt looks like it’s on backwards and inside out. “I’m not the one with exhibitionist tendencies!”

“Awww,” Tyler coos, poking Jamie repeatedly and annoyingly. He grins when Jamie tries to slap his hands away. “It’s ok baby, I know you were too impatient to admit you wouldn’t make it all the way to the bedroom.”

“You two are disgusting,” Patrick says, arms folded over his chest as if he has some kind of authority in his own home.

“Yet you still love us truly, madly, deeply,” Tyler sighs, a hand pressed over his heart.

“Every time I see your dicks out, a little bit of that love dies. There’s not much of it left,” Patrick chirps, making his way to the kitchen.

“We made dinner,” Tyler calls after him.

“You’re forgiven!” replies Patrick.

“Also, there’s an obscene number of messages for you on the machine,” Jamie tells him, poking his head into the kitchen.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Patrick sighs as he hears them both clamber up the stairs, Tyler giggling like a fucking schoolgirl again. He really should think about getting the couch cleaned by a professional or like, lay sheets over it or something.

He’s shovelling food down into his mouth when he presses play on the answering machine. When he’s on shift he tends to redirect most of his calls here so he can deal with them later, especially if they unknown numbers. His phone had been ringing off the hook for most of the day to the point where he’d had to shove it in his locker to stop from being distracted (his family knows how to get in touch with him if there’s an emergency).

“Patrick Kane, sorry to have missed you! Anyway, we’ve heard about the great rehabilitation work you did with Jonathon Toews recently and we wanted to get in touch as quickly as possible. We’re hoping to talk to you some more—we have a space opening up on our training staff and we’d be very interested in you taking that space Patrick. Oh, and we’re calling on behalf of the San Jose Sharks...”

Patrick inhales so quickly he starts choking on his food because that was most definitely unexpected. He’s scrambling around the kitchen trying to find a pen and paper to write down the number while also trying to clear his airway. He knocks something over but doesn’t give it much thought as he jots down the name and number of the Sharks head trainer (not a team he likes but whatever, it’s a foot in the door).

The messages that follow are basically a repeat of the first one—he’s got calls from the Sabres, the Maple Leaves, the Panthers… he grins excitedly at hearing the familiar voice of the ‘Hawks lead trainer. They want him too—he can stay home.

“Oh my god!” he exclaims to himself excitedly, staring at the answering machine. “Holy shit.”

And then reality hits and Patrick slumps back down into his seat at the kitchen table, head held in his hands. There’s no way he can stay here. “Fuck.”

\--

It’s been a few weeks since Lauren had waltzed back into his life. She’s been like a whirlwind, bursting in unexpectedly and just sweeping him along. He’s so confused about it all, but he’s definitely been seeing her in a whole new light these few weeks.

Sharpy thinks he’s blind to it, but Jonny just doesn’t want to admit he was such a dumbass and if he can’t have Patrick… she’s a suitable plan B he guesses? He’s a horrible human being, he thinks, miserable. He doesn’t deserve either of them.

The team is unhappy with him, Sharpy especially. He doesn’t know why until he looks at their interactions with Lauren. It’s the polar opposite to what they were like with Patrick, where Patrick had been warm and kind and had chirped the guys, Lauren is quiet and seems to get annoyed that they try and engage her in conversation. They’d liked Patrick—better yet, they’d respected him, and without Jonny knowing about it, Patrick had somehow become a part of the team as well.

Shaw looks upset when Jonny tells him Patrick is gone. “But we didn’t get to like say goodbye or throw him a party or anything,” he pouts.

Saad just sighs. “I know it like, wasn’t part of the diet plan. But he made the best hot chocolate ever. Damnit. I thought I’d have time to get his number or at least ask for his secret recipe before he finished up.”

A few of the others murmur in agreement, as if Patrick had been some kind of housewife plying them with sweet treats behind Jonny’s back (which was probably true). It makes Jonny feel a sudden and irrational flash of jealousy and anger, because Patrick was so much more than that.

“Dude, fuck the chocolate—having a physio you actually don’t want to punch on speed dial? That’s what I’m going to miss. Fucking sharp, that one,” Seabrook interjects.

Sharpy just glares at Jonny the whole time they’re bitching about Patrick disappearing, lips pressed into a thin and unimpressed line.

“You’re a dumbass,” he mutters when he shoulders Jonny roughly on the ice.

Sharpy doesn’t even know what really happened. “How do you know it wasn’t Patrick?” he sulks.

Sharpy shoots him a condescending look. “You’re a man-child when it comes to emotions. It was definitely you that fucked it up.”

“Lauren came back,” Jonny admits quietly as he pokes at the puck in front of him uselessly, staring at the ice.

Sharpy looks absolutely disgusted and 100% over Jonny’s shit when he glances back up.

“You fucking asshole!” Sharpy says, loudly enough that is echoes around the ice and brings the attention of the team to their conversation. He shoves Jonny hard and it’s so unexpected and out of character that Jonny loses his footing and falls flat on his ass.

The team looks on, worried frowns snapping between Sharpy and Jonny as Sharpy skates away. He sighs and falls back onto the ice, looking up into the lights. He kind of deserved that… ok, he totally deserved that. _Shit_.

\--

Jonny doesn’t know what he’s doing here. Ok, like, he knows he’s here for dinner, but he has no idea why he’s having dinner with Lauren. He wants nothing more than to be at home, fighting over the remote with Patrick. _Patrick_. God, he’d really fucked that up.

He keeps on drawing comparisons between them, and it isn’t fair to either of them, but with Lauren it leaves him wanting. She has none of Patrick’s warmth or easy blushes. She’s beautiful, but Jonny find himself jerking off to the night he’d spent with Patrick more often than not. He wants so much more, finds himself thinking about how Patrick would react to having his dick sucked, or how he’d react to Jonny milking him dry using his fingers only… or how Patrick would react to fucking Jonny. Patrick slowly takes over his sexual fantasies until he dimly realises, he hasn’t jerked off to his own girlfriend since they decided to give it another shot.

He pops up in the most innocuous situations as well. Like when Jonny and Lauren had had dinner with Seabs and his family—Lauren had commented about how delicious one of the dishes were and Seabs has just nodded and said he’d been lucky that Kaner had passed on the recipe before he’d disappeared. It had put Lauren in a snit the rest of the evening and Jonny awkwardly had to apologise when she’d insisted they leave before they’d had dessert. Or when he’d commented on Shaw’s improvement with his skating and he’d shrugged and said Kaner had given him some tips.

He glances down at his phone. She’s half an hour late. If it’s one thing Jonny hates with a passion, it’s people being unable to be punctual. He doesn’t mind ten to fifteen minutes here or there, but half a fucking hour? He takes a deep breath, tries to stop himself from thinking that this would never have happened with Patrick and fails.

_I really fucked up, didn’t I?_ he sends Sharpy while he continues to wait.

Lauren comes bustling in before he can get a reply, excited. She’s dressed like a super model, not a hair out of place and make-up done to perfection. All he can think about is Patrick, and how he’d blink up at Jonny shyly through his beautifully long eyelashes when they skated together. All he could see was Patrick’s excited smile as he’d told Jonny that they’d managed to secure enough funding for their community ice rink for another year at least.

“Oh my god, Jonny!”

He doesn’t reply, gesturing for the waiter to come over. He fucking needs to drown himself in something strong right now.

He looks on as she questions the waiter on their wine selection, making comments about vintage and taste that Jonny thinks would even impress a sommelier. Patrick didn’t know anything about wine other than which aisle to find it in in the grocery store. Jonny finds himself annoyed when she orders for the both of them without consulting him.

_It’s only wine_ , he tells himself as he looks down at the menu. _Calm down._

“You’re late,” Jonny says eventually, snapping the menu closed.

“I know, but like. Babe. I know we’ve only just got back together, but I swung by that really fancy hotel we were looking at for the wedding,” she says, smile bright as she reaches across the table to curl her fingers through his.

It reminds him of Patrick curling his fingers around his wrist, or how he’d hook his fingers through the bracelet Jonny usually wears to get his attention.

“Turns out they had a cancellation and there’s an opening in October. Isn’t that great? I know it’s way too presumptuous and moving fast but I was… Jonny. We should take it. Otherwise their next opening is in like two years’ time!”

Jonny pulls away from her, suddenly angry. What the fuck was she thinking? “You were right,” Jonny says, watching her face light up at his words. “Way too presumptuous.”

Her face falls immediately and she looks upset, pouting and hissing her order at the waiter sulkily when they circle back to their table.

“Jon,” she says seriously to him, like she deserves to be upset that Jonny asked to take things slowly. “I can’t do this if you don’t think we’re going to work out-”

“After everything that’s happened,” Jonny interrupts her. “I think you need to respect the fact that I have to take this slowly.”

He absolutely cannot break up with her in this restaurant, because she will most definitely cause a scene and PR will be pissed at him (they’re scarier than Lauren is).

She huffs, and Jonny can tell she’s trying to decide whether to be upset or angry (maybe both). It feels all too… played out. Like it’s a scene she’s run through her head and what he’s getting isn’t really her, but some version of her she wants him to see right now.

“Fine,” she says eventually, straightening the fork of the table, not daring to look at Jonny. “If you’re not worried about our future…” she shrugs, trailing off.

Jonny doesn’t dignify that with a response. The rest of their dinner is eaten in absolute silence. It’s uncomfortable and makes Jonny ache for Patrick in way that shouldn’t surprise him but does.

He checks his phone later that night, Lauren curled up on the opposite side of the bed, as far away from Jonny as possible. Patrick had liked cuddling, had sought after Jonny whenever they napped together, pressing his ridiculously cold toes between Jonny’s calves.

_Yeah. Glad you’ve finally caught up with the rest of us._

Jonny has no idea what to do, but he knows he has to get Patrick back.

\--

Lauren doesn’t take him breaking up with her very well.

It ends in Jonny having to clean up the remains of a vase of flowers she’d thrown at him. He scowls at the wall where there’s a watermark—it had better dry perfectly otherwise he has to have the whole fucking wall repainted.

\--

“Shaaaaaaarpy,” Jonny sighs drunkenly against Sharpy’s shoulder.

“You’re fucked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this drunk outside of a cup win,” Sharpy replies, patting him on the head.

“Shows you what you know,” he mutters but he slurs it so badly he’s not sure Sharpy understood him.

“Sure, buddy. Want to try again?”

“Fuck you,” Jonny articulates clearly after much thought.

“If this weren’t so pathetic, I’d find it funny,” Duncs says, tilting his head to look at the scene Jonny presents in front of them.

“Should we take a video? Surely Kaner will want this to be played at their wedding,” Seabs comments, reaching for his phone.

Jonny groans at the mention of Patrick. He kind of wants to cry.

“Good one, idiot,” Sharpy hisses at Seabs as Jonny’s shoulders start to shake.

“Is he fucking crying?”

“Holy shit. The world is officially coming an end.”

“Oh, fuck off, both of you,” Sharpy frowns at them, patting Jonny’s back in comfort. “I called you both because I need help getting him out of here, not a pity party.”

“Shaaaaaarpy,” Jonny whines, sniffling.

“Can he walk?” asks Seabs.

“This is him after four glasses of water. Be glad I found him before he gave himself alcohol poisoning. This is as good as it gets.”

“Right,” says Duncs. “Piggyback ride?”

“Can you lift him? His ass weighs more than he does,” Seabs questions, morbidly interested in seeing how this will play out.

“I should’ve called Saad,” Sharpy sighs, looking up the ceiling as if that’ll solve anything.

“Piggyback ride,” Duncs confirms. “But I need you guys to make sure the princess doesn’t fall off.”

“Yeah, ok,” Seabs shrugs, getting his phone out.

“Really?” Sharpy says, keeping Jonny stable enough to slump forward over Duncs’ shoulders.

“Jesus, he really is heavy,” Duncs grunts as he jerks around a bit trying to get a better hold on Jonny.

Seabs is cackling and recording. Jonny’s never going to be able to live this down, Sharpy chuckles.

“Want Kaaaaaner,” Jonny hiccups.

“We know you do, buddy,” Sharpy says, patting him lightly on the back.

“He better not throw up on me,” Duncs says.

By the time they get to Sharpy’s car and dump him in the back, Duncs’ left shoulder is covered in spew. Duncs is _so mad_ , and Seabs is bent over laughing hysterically. Sharpy just slams his door in disgust.

“You ok?”

“You mean apart from having my captain throw up all over me?”

Sharpy tries hard not to laugh, especially given Seabs is still laughing like a maniac, leaning against the car to hold himself up.

“Sure,” Duncs sighs. “But this needs to never happen again. Has he even tried to get in touch with him?”

Sharpy shrugs. “Kaner is just as tight lipped about it all as he is.”

“I wouldn’t say our captain is tight lipped,” Duncs says dryly gesturing at himself.

\--

Jonny groans when he wakes up. Or at least he thinks he’s waking up. His limbs are heavy, and his head feels like it’s been split open a few times. _Is this hell?_

“Nope,” he hears someone say. “You did this to yourself.”

_Too loud_ , Jonny wants to tell them. All that comes out is a miserable moan.

“You threw up all over Duncs last night.”

He doesn’t remember much from last night so that is… not as surprising it should be.

There’s a deep, disappointed sigh, as if Jonny has done something horrible. His head is so fuzzy. Did he do something wrong last night?

“Try and drink this and these.”

Jonny hears the sound of a bottle or glass and some tablets being put on a table. He doesn’t think he’s at home.

He slips back into a restless sleep a few minutes later, thankful for the Gatorade and pain killers when he wakes a few hours later.

\--

His stomach is still churning, and he feels like death when he makes his way downstairs—at least he’d managed a shower though. He’s at Sharpy’s place which doesn’t bode well. He doesn’t remember calling Sharpy.

“Oh, ho, ho,” Sharpy’s voice booms gleefully as Jonny winces. “Look who eventually decided to join the land of the living.”

Jonny grunts in greeting, throwing himself down on the couch. It hasn’t escaped his notice that Duncs and Seabs are here as well. _Shit_ , he suddenly realises, _it’s an intervention_.

“You ok there?”

Jonny gives a thumbs up but doesn’t make any move to look at any of them, keeping his face pressed into the cushions.

“So,” Duncs says, nodding.

“Last night, eh?” Seabs adds.

“Something you want to tell us?” Sharpy finishes.

They’re like the Spanish Inquisition, only worse.

Jonny sighs in defeat, turning his head enough so he can see them.

“I’m maybe, a little bit… in love with my former physiotherapist.”

“Awwww, he can’t even say his name.”

“You’re not helping,” Sharpy snipes as Jonny sits up.

“What is this?” Jonny asks them.

Seabs gestures proudly at the whiteboard they usually use to debate plays before replying. “We’re going to help you make a play to get into Kaner’s pants.”

Jonny blushes, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Oh, scandalous,” Sharpy says. “The play to get _back_ into Kaner’s pants, then.”

“You’re all assholes,” Jonny observes.

“Says the man that was simultaneously chucking and crying,” Duncs chirps. “I’m fining you for that by the way… a lot.”

“We have to wait for Abby, though,” Seabs pipes up. “She said we weren’t allowed to plan without supervision.”

\--

“Patrick, come on! You can’t just… run away from all this!” Tyler reprimands him, watching as Patrick shoves a few more things into his overnight bag.

“I’m not running away. The Sabres offered to let me see their training facilities and I said yes. I’ll check them out, see if it works for me.”

“The Blackhawks offered you a better salary and you know it. They’re your favourite team, Peeks! Why haven’t you said yes?”

“You know why,” Patrick says. “I can’t…” he trails off, suddenly looking tired. “I just can’t, ok? Drop it. I’ll be back in like two days, don’t burn the place down and please don’t have sex in public spaces.”

Tyler’s shoulders slump as he watches Patrick walk out his room. “Have fun!” he calls out belatedly as he hears the front door slam shut.

Jamie’s head pokes out of their room, looking up and down the hallway before looking at Tyler. “That… did not go well.”

“No kidding, genius,” Tyler snaps, upset. He and Patrick are total BFF’s—he’s not sure how he’d survive with Patrick being _not here_. He doesn’t even want to imagine it. He scowls when Jamie approaches and wraps his arms around his shoulders.

“I’m sure it’ll all work out for the best,” Jamie comforts him.

“Sorry,” Tyler sighs, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. “I’m not angry at you. I’m just angry at Pat… pretending like nothing is wrong and then just, just… running off to some other stupid city to get away from _him_!”

Jamie presses a kiss to his temple and rubs his shoulders. “I know.”

Tyler isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve Jamie, but he’s glad they found each other. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

\--

Jonny’s heart is beating so fast, so hard, he’s sure other people would be able to hear it. He takes a deep breath and looks at the door in front of him again.

_Come on_ , he tries psyching himself up, _you can do this!_

He knocks. He waits. He almost makes a run for it when he hears footsteps approaching the door. He takes a step back in surprise as the door is yanked open.

“Tyler.” _Shit._

Tyler just glares in reply. Jonny wonders if the backyard is big enough to bury his body because Tyler looks like he’s about to murder him.

Jonny glances up when someone new makes their way to the front door.

“Ty, baby. We spoke about this. Murder isn’t legal.”

_Jamie_ , Jonny realises, the other housemate that’s also Tyler’s other half.

Tyler pulls a face but turns back to Jonny, eyeing him up and down before turning his nose up. “What do you want, asshole?”

Given Tyler is supposed to be Patrick’s best friend, he totally deserves this. Especially after getting Tyler involved in his plans to romance Patrick.

“Is Patrick here?” he asks.

“No. He’s in Buffalo, left yesterday.”

Oh god, Jonny suddenly panics, what if he’s moved and Jonny has missed his chance?

“Calm the hell down,” Tyler says. “He’s due back tomorrow morning. I’m assuming you want to see him so you can grovel and beg him to take you back?”

Jamie nudges him, as if reminding him that they’re supposed to like Jonny.

“Yes,” Jonny replies, unashamed. “To all of the above.”

Tyler sighs and just looks at him some more, as if he’s weighing Jonny’s soul in a set of scales. It’s intimidating and Jonny thinks Tyler is kind of scary.

“What about she who shall not be named?”

“Who?” Jonny asks, confused.

“ _Lauren_ ,” Tyler spits out, rolling his eyes.

“Oh… uh. It’s definitely over. If that’s what you’re asking?”

“You’re fucking hopeless. I have no idea what Patrick sees in you,” Tyler replies, exasperated.

“Yeah, well. Neither do I.”

“Hmmm,” Tyler agrees. “Right. You’re absolutely pathetic looking so I guess I’d better help you then.”

“You will?”

“I get season tickets for the rest of my life,” Tyler says, stepping out of the doorway and gesturing to invite Jonny inside.

“I can maybe only guarantee for the rest of my career?”

“Good enough. Come on, lover boy. I’m going to teach you how to woo one Patrick Kane.”

\--

Patrick is so… conflicted. He knows he should just take the job with the ‘Hawks but he’s not sure he could deal with seeing Jonny all the time. He’s not sure he could manage seeing Jonny and Lauren all loved up all the time.

There are pros and cons to both the Sabres and the ‘Hawks—the Sabres mean he’ll be close to his family for the first time in years, but the ‘Hawks… Patrick’s _home_ is here in Chicago, and so are all his friends.

“Skate it off,” Tyler tells him later that night, ruffling Patrick’s curls. “Go to the rink, clear your head.”

It’s not a bad idea, so Patrick goes despite the late hour.

It’s quiet on the ice, the only sound breaking through the silence being his skates slicing across the surface. His breath puffs in a little cloud in front of him as he slows down. It’s cold in here tonight. Patrick isn’t sure if that’s because of the temperature or because he feels cold when he remembers that night when he’d skated with Jonny. God, he shakes his head in exasperation, he needs to stop thinking about it, thinking about him.

Eventually, the exertion, the stress and the travel catch up with him and he feels his body relax and his mind empty. It’s well past midnight when he makes his way out of the rink, locking up behind him. He stops short when he sees Jonny leaning against his car.

Jonny looks amazing. It sparks anger in him—what right does Jonny have to come here and speak to Patrick? Why does he have to be so damn attractive to Patrick?

Patrick shuffles from one foot to the other, wondering if Jonny’s going to talk or if he’s going to make Patrick do it. It’s fucking cold and Patrick wants in his car with the heaters going so he swallows down the spiteful urge in himself that tells him he should just wait until Jonny says something first.

“What are you doing here?” Patrick asks, crossing his arms across his chest defensively.

“Tyler,” he responds immediately, nervous.

_Good_ , Patrick thinks, _he should be nervous_. “No, Jon. Why are here? Why are you waiting for me?” he asks. If he thinks Patrick is going to go easy on him, he’s got another thing coming.

“I’m here for you,” Jonny says earnestly.

Patrick scoffs at the answer, rolling his eyes. “What?” he spits out. “Things didn’t work out with Lauren? You found out she’s not the person you thought she was?”

“That’s not fair,” Jonny replies, frowning.

“Isn’t it? She left you, Jonny. I was the one that was there for you when you were down, I was there for you when you couldn’t get out of bed in the morning, I was the one that looked after you. You thought you could just, what, turn up and have me fall at your feet?” He’s pretty much yelling by the time he’s done, he also kind of feels like crying but that’s more about how angry he is than how upset he is about this whole fucking mess (yeah ok, maybe it’s a bit about him being upset too). “I’m not plan B, Jonny. I deserve better than that!”

“This isn’t about Lauren,” Jonny insists, approaching Patrick. He doesn’t stop until he’s close enough to reach out and touch Patrick, not that he does. Patrick might hit him with how angry he is right now. “This isn’t about Lauren,” he repeats, trying to calm Patrick down. “This is about you. I’m not here because things with Lauren didn’t work out, I’m here because of you Patrick. I’m here because there’s no choice but you. I know you-”

Patrick scoffs, turning away from Jonny. He reaches out to stop Patrick from leaving, but Patrick shakes him off and puts some more distance between them. “You don’t know me,” he snaps.

Jonny doesn’t know what to do because Patrick is crying, and he so desperately wants to comfort him, but he knows it won’t be well received right now. “I _know_ you,” he insists. “I know you love me, and I know that those feelings didn’t conveniently disappear. I know you’re angry too, and you have every right to be. But Patrick, you have to know that I can’t let you go. I love you, and I’m sorry I didn’t realise that soon enough, and I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

Patrick still doesn’t say anything, and Jonny feels like he might start crying too and this is really super intense right now and he hopes Patrick will give him the chance to prove himself, to earn Patrick’s forgiveness.

“Please, Patrick, baby,” he begs. “Please tell me I have a chance. _I love you_.”

Jonny almost loses his footing when Patrick launches himself at him, arms wrapping around his shoulders tightly, legs around Jonny’s waist, but Jonny recovers quickly and takes Patrick’s weight easily.

“It’s ok, I’m so sorry,” Jonny’s saying, over and over as he presses his face into Patrick’s curls.

“I love you too,” Patrick says when he’s calmed down enough to speak. “Just in case you, you know, had any doubts. But also you're making this up to me for the rest of our lives.”

Jonny has to admit to himself that something in his chest loosens at the confirmation and he tightens his hold on Patrick, almost afraid to let go, to lose this moment.

“Take me home, Jonny.”

\--

_Epilogue_

“Pat, baby, I swear to God I’ve seen Tyler’s dick more than I’ve seen yours,” he greets, leaning down to press a kiss to Patrick’s proffered cheek.

Patrick laughs, bright and happy and absolutely unapologetic. “I told you to knock before coming in.”

“We’re literally in the house with them, can they not control themselves?”

“Dude, you’re literally like the ultimate cock-block,” Tyler sighs, walking in as he’s pulling his shirt on. “Jamie is officially mortified, and he’s gone to hide in our room.”

“Stop trying to have sex in places that other people use! Better yet, put up a fucking sign or something!” Jonny exclaims, draping himself over Patrick’s shoulders and covering his eyes. “I don’t want Patrick to have to see your dick all the time. The only dick he needs to see is mine.”

“Jealous?” Tyler sneers.

“I hate to break it to you,” Patrick interjects, tugging Jonny’s hands down until he gets the hint and wraps them around his shoulders instead, “but you’re not that hot.”

Tyler gasps in outrage. “Excuse me?!”

“You don’t have enough junk in your trunk,” Patrick continues with a laugh, reaching around behind himself to pinch Jonny’s ass.

Jonny just looks like one smug motherfucker. “Thanks, babe.”

“Anytime.”

“Ready for the season opener tonight?” Tyler asks, moving to sit on the kitchen table.

“Yeah,” Jonny says, his smile softening as he looks down at Patrick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on other stuff so rest assured I'll be back when I get far enough into the next story...
> 
> For anyone that wants to keep in touch while I'm writing - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shibishibishakeshake


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